This house is sentient, light with rapture,
replete with canny, familiar ghosts.
This house has been indifferent
to vicissitudes of human fortune:
train wreck and famine, siege and tsunami.
The grounds have diminished. From the residue,
you have made an L-shaped paradise:
rhododendron, camellia, nasturtium,
eucalyptus – a global gazetteer.
On some summer nights, the pomaded air
heavy still with heat, there is a moment,
ecstatic, brief, when we will live forever.
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By David Selzer