REVIEWSHouses
HOUSE BUILT OF DOORS
When all the doors are
open
it is a skeleton of saplings.
Sometimes, even, they bud and green.
Sparrows and finches
fly in, singing
as she draws around her
the robe of blue silk.
They land on the branches
and the house of open doors
is a flutter
of colors, a dusting
of feathers
and they sing, they ring out,
of sky meeting sea.
Poem by CB Follett from "Houses"
HOUSE BUILT OF FOREST
She built a road
of peach pits
that ran from here to there,
and when, after a particularly
wet winter
while snow hibernated
them in its gauzy moisture,
the pits erupted
tiny green shoots
turned sapling
and a long straight forest
rose up, and so
aslant she built a road
of apricot pits
and when in time
these saplings rose into sun –
a new angle of road – until
through pits and pips and kernels
she enclosed a pentagram of green.
Poem by CB Follett from "Houses"