, , , , , , ,

In early Fall we returned to the river
The cottage shuttered and locked
since last August
Seemed, in the grey and windy afternoon
Shrunken into itself
As though it was aware of the Spring and Summer
spent alone.
Intrusively, tall weeds thrust themselves
through wooden plank steps
While inside the drawn green shades kept
minuscule light at bay
Just a brief visit of reassurance –
Certain houses have souls of a sort
They miss the humans who stay away too long.