There is indeed a poem for everything, and this is a lovely one. In the words of the poet herself: “spiraled about my 90s kitchen backsplash and had to touch grass (write a poem).”
Before the Guests
by Kate Baer
In the end it’s who we loved —
how we’d sit out on the patio after it had rained,
telling the same stories about the family dog.
How, when invited over for a campfire, a round of cards,
a late night summer swim, we’d pile in the car,
show up empty handed to a house lit up
by familiar conversation. Yes, you can
build whole kingdoms of picture perfect
laundry rooms and remodeled kitchen walls,
but when the light comes from every direction,
ready to carry you to the great unknown,
there is only one thing I’ll care to remember:
August nights, September mornings,
entire seasons spent loving you.