Tuesday, December 27, 2016

Leaning Out an Upstairs Window


Steady wind and wooded hill

Jeering in the dark,


Regions of the snowless ground

Colored by the lights


Soon taken down when I'm prepared

For night upon the porch,


The damper flopping in the flu,

Colder air and me


The same, I hear the front

Move in. The house exhales.


What is this emptiness we share

Which we can't name?