Wednesday 29 February 2012

180

He came under the porch.
Crossing the field
The house had been an
Absurdity, a toy

Coloured with the light
Of fallen trees.
It had been too bound
By its making

To stand commensurate
With the large
And fragile space of all
The outer air.

Under the porch, the open
Field was lit :
A cavity sown with
Seedlike fires.

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