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.