February 26, 2017

The Still House

The last light of today beckons 
top of the hill
a faint shade of blue gets darker with each blink
Venus, the evening star fiery white
brilliantly hovers
planetary eye
ebony trees 
always patient
strong
like sentinels
sway

knowingly

The house is still
save for mouse-like me
boiling water
that whispers
rather than whistles
even the walls seem to 
breathe
quietly

cold night
arrives

a fire
sounds nice.