First House
— for Kathleen
It seems an ordinary house on an ordinary street
if you do not know that behind it a creek flows,
with a bend widened by dozens of ducks
quacking up the bank to be fed by their neighbor.
You would not know that wrens warble by day,
that at dusk a great blue heron drops
to a branch above, her folded bulk balanced on one leg,
one thin line that by magic keeps her upright.
Nothing would tell you of their efforts to tame
passionflower vines, to scrape layers of red paint,
of their evenings stargazing round the firepit,
work done, hot tea in hand, voices in a whisper.
8 thoughts on "First House"
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How beautiful! Love the extraordinary “ordinary” house. You got the heron leg down!
Very beautifully described!
a storybook house I would never want to leave
such a beautiful way of showing how home can never be just described… it’s a feeling of the whole lived experience. very well done!
Your content, calm, and quiet appreciation are expressed so well. Thank you for taking me to that place, I needed that calm, that comfort. This is lovely.
Boom! You saved the best for last this month. Absolutely exquisite poem.
Lovely, especially, “a great blue heron drops
to a branch above, her folded bulk balanced on one leg,
one thin line”
I love all of these things I “would not know.” Thank you for sharing this and your other work all month!