04-09-2016, 07:45 AM
Home Site
Slants precipitously toward the earth
what is left of the roof line - cedar shakes
eaten by moss. The leafless trees of the grove
surround what is left of the walls
the wood of the walls bear the same
grey brown of the trunks of the trees.
What started from seed, the weed plants
by the house became trees when untended,
grown and gone the families known to trim back
the saplings, in their unseen march from seed to sky.
It is these trees which hold the house upright
as each succeeding season makes it claim.
Back in the grove by the river, an inconsequential
prairie stream, which winds past this ancient home site.
Gentle banks lured thirsty livestock and impish kids
to the water, warm by August, frozen by November.
There may be an old woman or shriveled man
in a nursing home in Tampa or Sarasota or Phoenix
who might say to who might listen, in unhurried voice –
we waded to our chests and dunked our heads
and shook like wet puppies, and stretched in the grass
beneath the crab apples to watch the bees and sunshine
turn blossoms to fruit by late July.
The wood so appears like the trunks of the leafless trees
as to suggest there had never been paint,
that the wood knew no sense of color
other than that brought by dew, the morning sun,
and the white fluffing advance of late fall. Trees
grown up the walls, hold the house to its original form
long after anyone, but the squirrels, pay attention.
Slants precipitously toward the earth
what is left of the roof line - cedar shakes
eaten by moss. The leafless trees of the grove
surround what is left of the walls
the wood of the walls bear the same
grey brown of the trunks of the trees.
What started from seed, the weed plants
by the house became trees when untended,
grown and gone the families known to trim back
the saplings, in their unseen march from seed to sky.
It is these trees which hold the house upright
as each succeeding season makes it claim.
Back in the grove by the river, an inconsequential
prairie stream, which winds past this ancient home site.
Gentle banks lured thirsty livestock and impish kids
to the water, warm by August, frozen by November.
There may be an old woman or shriveled man
in a nursing home in Tampa or Sarasota or Phoenix
who might say to who might listen, in unhurried voice –
we waded to our chests and dunked our heads
and shook like wet puppies, and stretched in the grass
beneath the crab apples to watch the bees and sunshine
turn blossoms to fruit by late July.
The wood so appears like the trunks of the leafless trees
as to suggest there had never been paint,
that the wood knew no sense of color
other than that brought by dew, the morning sun,
and the white fluffing advance of late fall. Trees
grown up the walls, hold the house to its original form
long after anyone, but the squirrels, pay attention.