A long house in the country
       for Ruth Dallas
 

Our house in the country
has a wraparound veranda

with pale grass becalmed beneath.
No empty wind roils through.

Above the willows, another story.
An operatic sun, the parting of leaves.

Cows drop kindling calves on hot grass.
Lick them alight.

There are cornflowers along the fence.
Stick by stick the season is building.

That shshshshsh behind me
is our long house circling its moorings.