A House by Sam Rasnake: A Favorite Poem

A HOUSE
— after Edward Hopper

It must be morning.
Long bellies of cloud hug
such a thin edge of ground
there's no way of knowing
what world the road bends to —
uncut grass, browned deep,
an after-thought of scattered pines,
this house with blinds in place
behind dark windows. Someone
still comes here, still knows.
A creak here, a scratch there,
wind at the chimney's mouth,
then groaning under the eaves.


— originally published in Corium Magazine


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First in a series of poems that have moved me. This gem, by Sam Rasnake, still gives me shivers. The long bellies of cloud, the creaks and scratches... don't derelict houses beguile with their mysteries? I stumbled upon this particular poem of Sam's at fictionaut , but it is but one of many--read on for commentary.


Back from Spring break visiting mom and sister and nieces in North Carolina. A short trip, but it felt as though we were away for weeks. A sign of a good trip. While away, some nice words about HOMESTEADING, a quiet story written for my writing class. Made me glow all day. Naw, all week ;^)

Peace...