This house stands still on this flat plain,
the lights that were, are gone again, you can watch it’s steely eyes, blankly but fervently, staring down the path, to the old road,
scarred with cuts of wagon wheels, and attempts to clear them with tractor pulling weight,
Only to reveal the cut out soil from this houses past.
Four windows in the front, two on the west, two on the east,
Each planned and put to capture the air, as it blew, so steady across the fields.
The porch is free to him who will sit; trip down the stairs that once were there, and walk the yard and hear the dog, whose baying at the moon, brought reality to light .
If one stands there long enough, you can hear the laundry squeak on the line, smell the cornbread baking behind, hear a cackle of laughter as it escapes your mama’s mouth, or aunts, or sisters. Catch the wisp of tobacco rolled in smokes, by the men, who share the porch, and hear them discuss the ground and its growth among them.
Let the house look, let the windows breathe, let it’s porch stand, as long as you can plant and cut around it, for this stalwart to keep looking, and seeing what the world has become.
Ralph Peck
Photography by Tim Holland
Grant County Oklahoma
Commenti