Monday, November 28, 2011

Sunset on Hanover Hill


The House on Hanover Hill

She remembered: 

Waking early, 
the scent of fresh hay already in her dreams 
and something else she couldn't recall 
in the corner bedroom where the peeping sun first peaked.

How her fingers 
repolished the banister down the stairs! 
wet sneakers in dewy grass, 
her bicycle, propped against the great maple that defined the yard. 

Standing in the center of the center field, 
rowed corn measuring the hills' undulations, 
the amber waves, a quilter's celebration,
concentric reverberations as far as vision,

And the bicycle 
slipping on the sand as her leg
dodging ruts, coasting, freewheeling, carefree 
swung safely on to the saddle

The colors in crystal
green, golden, ruby red beside the onion braids, 
in rowed procession gleaming
and the smell of cinnamon and turpentine in the pantry closet.
Fragrance of cedar
like a premonition
when they brought in the old, wooden chests
and laid in the curtains and linens and dishes and all.

another view of the Farm on Hanover Hill:


Peter said...

Great photo!

Ted said...

Thank you.

Trotter said...

You Know I love sunsets. This is awesome!!

Ted Roth said...

Thank you. Alas, no Mediterranean beach.