I Could Walk Into That Painting
Evening At Kuerners, Andrew Wyeth
At lastlight,
First frost in the air.
Apples pulled from lower limbs along the way
Rub shiny, red and green in my pockets.
When I look behind me, I whistle.
Slow to a walk when I see our lighted windows,
Follow the spilling light to the glassy run
Below the house. Inside
A piano is played with hesitant fingers...
Clara Schumann seeps through
Stucco to accompany the evening peepers.
Perhaps inside I'll know warmth
At the wooden table, and pepperpot broth.
A lanky dog named Rattler
Will lie against my feet as I tell my day
To the listeners in the kitchen.
We might even look out the window at how light
Falls on the sluiceway and dun-colored slope,
How the fallen leaf moon
Lights up our life.