Avoiding Your Door

for Beverly

Inspecting the night I walk wet sidewalks looking into empty frontrooms and unlit churches for an impression of comfort or the words of a prayer. So many quiet housefronts. How unreal the suggestion of human lives within, as if a room could own a sigh, as if your face suggested the feelings of your heart. Yet here a tree blossoms— even more precious in the dark.

18 February 1979