reflections on food

growing, cooking, eating, and thinking…

F1 = 1 := The House with Windows of Rain


A house that was white on the top of the hill,
painting is flaking away.
Weeds grow green and tall around the sidewalk.
In November, under the linden tree,
leaves lay in a carpet of gold.
There is a house beyond a curtain of rain,
black ivy
it grows on its walls
locks the doors.
Through the windows you shall not pass,
they are covered by curtains of rain.
A curtain of rain shades memories
protecting them from the light of the sun.
Some day in that other house,
rain will stop falling
ivy will melt from the walls
the sun will open the doors.
And the sky will shine golden blue
through the linden tree branches
in winter.

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This entry was posted on January 29, 2015 by in autoethnography and tagged .
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