The last fall of sunlight through a west-facing window
Illuminates gleaming tiles and counters, stripes a table
That is worn but clean, tints with gold the recovered beige
Of carpet and the new-scrubbed white of walls.
The benediction of the light, shining off the fruits
Of our hard work, is a satisfaction to tired bodies.
Muscles protest gently, presaging tomorrow’s aches,
But we are content in mind. We have reclaimed this place.
It will be a home and a haven, a gathering ground.
Boxes stacked in haphazard fashion make a labyrinth
Among the rooms. We shift them to and fro; there is no
Learning this maze. Furniture marks places, each piece
New to this house, but once well loved in another habitat.
The broken-in couch, warm blue, invites us to sit. We,
The assembled company, circle it in the otherwise empty room
And that room fills with homey sounds which replace the fading light of day.