Then Up- Shaken Morning
The girl took the steps at breakneck speed,
"What?" and the world went with her,
steps slanted, feet fell, braced for bottom.
Then up, shaken beside an azalea.
Some light took shape, leaked onto earth,
onto sight, leaked onto trees. The house stood, ate the air
behind the steps, stretched, took all the wood and a window.
"A girl could live in a place like this."
There was earth pushed right up to the first step, wrinkled
with blades of soft grass and a few new bits of clover.
The girl (as if to cry) leveled head to hands, but then changed
her posture. She felt the moving of what should,
and smiled. "I never was here before this, but now-"
One girl. Sturdy house in a nameable season.
Steps with banister, sorely in need of fixing.