Chapter 1

It’s just an old house settling,
sighing really, expelling laughter
under cold timbers

in autumn,
as houses do – actually a handful of times
each year, though seldom we notice

As spring turns to summer, sun on wood
pops alive yellow, breathy new petals,
cool dew, moist loam

Under rain gear, in galoshes, I dare
every puddle to step aside, I’m stomping in,
warm or cold, for somewhere a towel is waiting

Snow is never too heavy
on the rooftop, buoyed by the lift of moonlight

In the window under the eave, a golden glow,
a triangle of candlelight carved in space with your face
there in the glass

I am entranced by the amber glow of my neighbor’s light
there from the woods beside us – it spills into and fills
the night between our homes; I am elated by that promise

Chapter 2

Once as a kid in the attic I lay on my back, my head hanging down off a beam,
the ceiling the floor, lights things to walk around, pretending
the world upside-down.

Outside the window the clouds are the ground,
I fall down but oddly sail up,
white on blue, I tumble
wildly

Chapter 3

Once a kite got stuck round the chimney,
beautiful in sunlight through the day,
for many seasons, never to blow away

Until finally the faded-linen flyer released and slid along
the smooth contour of its frame, off the roof, pulling its
long braided bridle behind, to slice through the air in a final
throe, a goodbye wave in descent

It had been nearly 300 days since
the kite had left ground

Chagall 2018

Advertisements