Our Country House

It is
the way of things
in a country house.

With the day
fallen beyond color,
the walls are suspended
in a silence which
is our cradle song.

The stars at slumber,
after the last lamp
of evening is unlit,
and with warm love
as my companion;

Between two hills,
but for a whisper
of moonlight,
the house floats
on the darkness.

I draw up our glad old
blanket around me,
once again I will
invite it in.