This house is preparation. An atrium
Of light invites us up a curved
Marble staircase. When we ascend,
A long hall opens into a library
With ten-thousand volumes and heaven
Painted on its blue ceiling.
A black limo crouches on the pebble drive.
In the rose garden the bees go
About their business. The roaches discover
The garbage hasn't been picked up for days.
The hemlocks in the park sweat needles.
Brother Death knows something's not right.
After dinner Sister Moon winks
At the watcher who talks to the gatekeeper
About the dairy, the new winery,
The repairs to the swimming pool.
Unsettled, Father Sun, peeping over
Pisgah, nevertheless gladdens his heart.
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