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.