8-25-2013

Late some nights
The sill plates whisper
footsteps over frame,

And the house harvests me
from sleep.

And the still
between each room
congratulates

The putting aside
of childish things.

Yet then
I recall,
with all I am,
stars
above the roof.

And the boy I was
meets me on the porch,
and grasps after
my affection.