-waiting on the songbird-

the house in Swansea will soon be emptied,
(save for myself) of its occupants;

a sister and two stop-over houseguests,

who will then travel together

to another house in Westport,

filled with people known to them and loved.

first, four pies will be made and baked in Swansea.

you know which pies.
the pies are specific to the Autumn occasion 
and “coconut balls” as they are called here,
enough rolled to feed a large family of porcupines.

I’m astounded at how many cans it takes

in order to make four “homemade” pies.

this is not a cannery or a patch or a bog;

it’s the house which will soon be emptied, save for myself,

as I wait on a call from the songbird of Boca Raton.

when the call comes, it will come from Fall River,
from the house of her parents as she stops by for a visit

and the two of us will drive to Newport and there,

we’ll eat and drink in snazzy, sea-themed surroundings

in complimentary musings about the ocean views, 

but until then, be as it may, it’s Thanksgiving day

inside an empty, (save for me and the anticipations
of the arrival of the songbird of Boca Raton ) house in Swansea.