This House Talks


This House Talks

Sixty-eight days
of this impatient rain
and obstinate gloom,

my moods half waking,
occasionally all-blinking,
and February gnaws on.

I reminisce like old women
sat on a shaded veranda
in rocking chairs,
remembering picnic days,

when we felt lazy as heat,
like contented geese.
And I’m interrupted by

those unfamiliar noises
in this gabbling old house,
and I growl them away,

betray them into that
echoing place
where ghost stories
and mysteries are kept.

This empty house rains
noise – this house talks.


reposted from Chalk Hills Journal
first published 13 Feb 2015

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