on summer nights a multitude of crickets sing in the dark
reminding the childless couple inside they are not alone
winter nights they read Emerson by lamplight while La traviata
sails round and round on the green felt of the aging Victrola
after the house has fallen quiet she walks outside
watches as each star takes its place across the vast night sky
in the spring when it feels like the wind might never stop blowing
she looks out at the endless rolling hills ~ remembers the ocean
The photograph is mine.
Feels like whole lifetimes are somehow encapsulated here. It reminds me of how we have our inner seasons that resonate so closely with the outer ones. The photo is beautiful also, with a similar sense of eternity in its "endless rolling hills".
ReplyDeleteIt is an exception to how I write the poem and then find the image. I have seen and photographed this house so many time and always have this sense of timelessness, of whole lives lived there, as you mentioned. I love the idea of our inner seasons mirroring the outer... or is it the other way? :)
DeleteWhere was the photograph taken?
ReplyDeleteOn the road to Valentine, Nebraska, after you turn off I-90, just before the Sandhills start.
DeleteBeautiful
ReplyDelete