Ode to your dining table
 
Small, wooden table,
with four chairs squaring
your roundness,
you spend most of your day
as the desk
where my loved one works,
sending punctuated signals
into cyberspace.

You are the center of everything,
the nexus that connects
one room to the others,
one person to another,
and each day to the next.
You are the first place
my love sits in the morning,
and the last place
she sits before bed,
and when sleep doesn’t come,
you are the pre-dawn companion
who keeps her company
through the night.

On special occasions you expand
to accept additions to your surface
and length to your perimeter,
embracing new visitors
and random chairs.
Upon your back is laid
the bounty of the world,
while above your leaves
shines a shared light,
and a smiling exchange of eyes.

You are simple, and solid,
and ask nothing
but to stand and support,
to carry and offer and serve.