Build me a house with many windows. A house with many doors to let the air waft through on an autumn morning, to let the light in, to let me see the world outside.
Do not hang any curtains. Set the furniture looking out. and if strangers look in, fine. They will see what they will see, what is there, not all of it Better Homes and Gardens.
I am done hiding in the dark. It does not suit me. I am too old for such foolishness. Too old for hide and seek. So build me a house. A new house. A place bright and open. Let the dusty corners show. Let the leftover coffee linger on the kitchen table. Breathe in the air like a monk learning to dance.
Some writers know where their words are going when they start.
Not me.
Tom
PS: On my blog this poem is paired with a picture of a barn. Not a house. But it has lots of windows! At the Hancock Shaker Village in Pittsfield, MA.