Even the lawn is cramped with hydrangeas,
white heirloom lilies, wild creeper
running the length of the porch,
all of it
sloped on a grade from the yard
to the road.
The perspective is childhood or old
poor, but not poor enough to discern
Nor is the house large enough to
Perhaps company will come soon,
but no one will sit in the sitting
That's for Hummel figurines, for
unpolished for months, tarnished
for old plates, photos, plastic-covered
That's for the passing of the spirit
through the spirit of the house.
would rather stand in the kitchen
pies crisp on the sill, swing on
the side porch,
or sit smoking or sewing or talking,
or take coffee in a cane chair upstairs.
There's a functional humility in
everything but that room, where
Soon enough we will go to our places
down the road, where the creek cuts
through the graves.
The whole family waits there, passing
worm and mole, creeper and clod,
© by David Baker