A Glow on the Road

Glow on the road, and dusk's October opens
Blue against chimneys, steep eaves, stiff walls into. . . harbor?
Is the door open? Blue-purple, it leans inward, lilting,

But really, it's shadowed, and closed. Does the roof bend a little?
Yes, into the earth, where the burgundy's surging foundation
Twists, grasps and threatens to swallow the softening floor.

Peach-softened burgundy field stretching just not too far,
waiting behind the house, softly, not opening hard,
the way shadows open under the stiff, hard-tangled eaves —

Is that a shutter? Then what is the orange behind it?
Light from the tree. Not an opening. Light from the tree.

But the house is a house; the house is as steady as silence,
And no-one can see it until they have stopped on the road . . . .

Copyright © 2006 Annie Finch All rights reserved
from Runes
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission