How a house is a self & else, a seeping intoof light deciding the day. A house so closeit breathes as the lake breathes.
How a lakeis a shelf, an eye, a species of seeing,
burbling of tongues completing the shore.
How a loon is a probing, a genus of dreams,
encyclopedia of summer. Unsummable houseby the lake, generous hinge opening us.
I loved,in folds of sleep, to hear the back door’s yawn& click.
You gliding down toward shore& dawn, beyond all frames, reconciling yourself tobracing Long Lake. Into its ever-opening, you—
No comments:
Post a Comment