Late February
The first warm day,
and by mid-afternoon
the snow is no more
than a washing
strewn over the yards,
the bedding rolled in knots
and leaking water,
the white shirts lying
under the evergreens.
Through the heaviest drifts
rise autumn’s fallen
bicycles, small carnivals
of paint and chrome,
the Octopus
and Tilt-A-Whirl
beginning to turn
in the sun. Now children,
stiffened by winter
and dressed, somehow,
like old men, mutter
and bend to the work
of building dams.
But such a spring is brief;
by five o’clock
the chill of sundown,
darkness, the blue TVs
flashing like storms
in the picture windows,
the yards gone gray,
the wet dogs barking
at nothing. Far off
across the cornfields
staked for streets and sewers,
the body of a farmer
missing since fall
will show up
in his garden tomorrow,
as unexpected
as a tulip.
Quite eerie…
The interesting point of the sight and nice B & W. I would like to In the house on the hill to stay a the bit…:)
Now you had to know I’d love this one…. Very nice shot!
love the title nice play on words, love the perspective here, not sure why but when looking at this I suddenly expect someone to pop out over the top of the hill and scare the heck out of me LOL
The mistery of this old house is guaranteed to have kept it behind the high grass
lol at JJ! :p
a mysterious image. love the title too. 🙂
hum! that house his going to be eaten by those plants, too bad.