Neat Old House

This old house stands on a small hill set back from one of the main roads heading on and off the island. I pass it every day on the way to and from work. Everyone passes this house all the time and I'm sure it's a local landmark even though I've never heard anyone talk about it. I've never seen any activity around it except for the changing door decoration, which someone obviously keeps updated for the current season. It's a busy road and not an easy place to stop for a picture, but I finally pulled over and walked up the hill a bit to take this photo with the shamrock for St. Patrick's Day. I'd love to go back and snoop around for a bit because it just looks like the neatest place and there must be some story attached to it. 


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.


Old Houses, by Robert Cording