Then

    I was a full-time¹ house sitter. I had no title.

    I lived in a farmhouse²， on a small hill，

    surrounded by 100 acres. All was still.

    The fields were in a government program

    that paid farmers to abandon them. Perfect.

    I overlooked Union Lake， a small lake，

    with a small ugly island in the middle

    a sort of mistake， a cluster of dead elms

    encircled by marsh³， resembling a smear⁴

    of oil paint left to congeal⁵ on a palette.

    Pesticides⁶ farmers sprayed on their crops

    over the years had drained into the lake

    and made the water black， the fish shake.

    About the family that built the house

    I knew nothing. Built in 1865，

    perhaps they came after the Civil War？

    It was a simple house. Two stories.

    Six rooms. Every wall crooked⁷.

    Before the house， Indians camped there.

    If you listened you could hear them.

    On Sunday afternoons in early June，

    the sun would burnish⁸ the interiors.

    Shafts⁹ of light fell across the rooms.

    An old gray cat sparred his mote-swirls.

    Up a tiny staircase， ladder steep，

    I was often found， adrift， half asleep.

    I forgot words， where I lived， my dreams.

    Mirrors around the house， those streams，

    ran out of gossip. The walls absorbed me.

    There was every indication I was safe there.

    Outside， children sang， sweetening the air：

    Row， row， row your boat， gently down the stream.

    Merrily， merrily， merrily， merrily， life is but a dream . . .

    their fingers marrying each other with ease

    as the dark built its scaffolding above the trees.

    Peonies spoiled， dye ran from their centers.

    Often， the lawn was covered by a fine soft rain.

    Days disappeared as quickly as they came.

    The children receded¹⁰. The moon rose.

    Cows paused on the wild green plain

    of all that land still left uncommercialized.

    Three years I had there. Alone. At peace.

    Often I awoke as the light began to cease.

    The house breathed and shook like a lover

    as I took for myself time needed to recover.