~ALLAN PETERSON~

SINGING AND A HOUSE

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In the saw there was singing and a house
came from it
simple hipped with small things like the wall’s
rounded corners
the handrail’s curves  fine woods  things
a craftsman admires
The ceiling had its lips around a globe
yellow ooo’ed the rooms
Tuscan cornices and pediments in molding
friezes of shadows lined the walls
vines spilled from the garden
For the writer inside were pages and vellum
and after all these years
the rhapsodic light of Italy just reaching him

 

© by Allan Peterson