4 thoughts on “Silent Sunday

  1. Old Houses
    BY ROBERT CORDING
    Year after year after year
    I have come to love slowly
    how old houses hold themselves—

    before November’s drizzled rain
    or the refreshing light of June—
    as if they have all come to agree
    that, in time, the days are no longer
    a matter of suffering or rejoicing.

    I have come to love
    how they take on the color of rain or sun
    as they go on keeping their vigil
    without need of a sign, awaiting nothing
    more than the birds that sing from the eaves,
    the seizing cold that sounds the rafters.

    Liked by 1 person

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