the horse in the field

back at the old house.

three hundred years old,
i look

at the job before me.
the wallpaper that has to come down.

the cracks in the walls,
the gaps
in the baseboards,
the crown

moldings.

the wobbly rails, the shaky
lights.

you can almost feel the dead
in here.

the ghosts
long gone tenants.

the children that lived here.

you can hear the conversations.
see the woman

in the kitchen
starting her day, a long day

depending on sunlight
and candles.

the horse outside in the field.
the smoke house.

the outhouse.
the chimney with its slender
ribbon
of white and grey.