The Door

The windows let in the light

The walls resist it

But the door has eyes unto the day

And I looked out.

Stood the mist wrapped in the trees

Sang the lark.

Came the pale sun, came silently

Rolled up the mist.

Grew the first shadow, shape of a leaf,

Blossomed the garden.

Fair to the morning, glory the flowers

Blood-red the rose.

Heavy the noon hours, heavy the scent

Slow love of life

For Autumn prepared, for ripeness

Stood the garden.

The sun took up its warmest palette

Painted glow on glow

House and tree and cow in the field

Burned with the slant sun.

Deep gold the corn crop, head drop

Emerald the oat

Sweet to eat grew the graze grass

The poppy miraculous.

The house is a shell to live in

Keep open the door,

Travel in time each day time

Sweet are the showers.