Life With Horace

poetry & essays

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Down to the trees

This old house sits well below
Monadnock’s western arm,
embraced by friendly woods
above a part-time stream,
where sunrise is a straggler
with extra feet to climb.
In winter, light leaves fast.
East Hill, across the pond,
brings sunset much too soon,
but night time is a glory.
With no clouds or dimming light
the brilliant heavens send us our reward,
a rain of stars down to the trees.