He sets his burden
in a corner, makes
his way to the table,
and large hands
wrap around its edges,
steadying him. His body eases
into a worn chair.
There is something
faintly pleasing
in the chair’s creak,
its answer.
Welcomes him,
open arms,
glad to see him,
whispering the familiar
like a lover.
Come, it seems to say.
Put down your staff. Rest.