old house

i swear, you can hear pitter-patter footsteps in runoff rainwater 
if you just listen hard enough. strain your ears—beyond 
your ordinary limits, mortal faculties mired 
in myopic definitions miss the microscopic nuance 
in the color of the leaves, scintillating 
shades of shamrock, chartreuse, veridian, all 
insufficiently libeled as simply being “green.” 

old walls still talk here. there are floorboards shifting 
beneath boot falls in this Victorian-era household,
croaking melancholic melodies in brilliant baritone 
to commemorate the ancient oaks felled to build
this little rural town you and i inhabit. no signposts 
or exit markers demarcate this idle village, where Harts 
walk and hearts wake. the somber drone
of tow-trucks trundle past us in the distance
intermittently interrupting the perpetual quiet. 

and, if i’m honest, i kind of like it. 
yes, there may be more corn stalks than trees 
and a fascist is almost definitely living adjacent to us,
but our neighbors across the street sit on their stoop and drink
Arnold Palmers like something out of a Hallmark movie 
and they wave every time our car rolls to a stop out front.
once, a fellow lent us oil for our mower. there’s a polished 
rifle and several boxes of ammo beneath our bed 
and a red and black flag hanging above our front porch step. 
a quaint garden flanks our lawn, dotted 
with generous splotches of color. chickens haunt 
the backyard, hunting for worms to gobble up. our dogs
and cats don’t always get along, but when winter comes
they cuddle close and keep us warm through long nights.
a mourning dove and her baby chicks commandeered 
the flower box hanging off the roof and

we have one another. something genuinely more 
than i could ever have hoped for. the harmony  
of your children giggling upstairs, playing make believe
in an imaginary world while you lay your head in my lap 
and snuggle close to read is the closest i come these days 
to transcendence. i pulled back my ribs, built a place
in my chest for you to rest. but, for the first time 
since i was a still a kid, i finally feel like i have come 
home.  
You