Humbling Habitat

The gray exhaust of twelve warm hearths Chased the clouds into the afternoon sky. There stood the stalwart mansion At peace with its surroundings And steadfast with its environs. Beckoning an affectionate greeting Just beyond the bridge, it appears To give light the sublime levity Of being a nuance of darkness. Its façade is as prestigious and lucent As a librarian’s bustline in her noblest estate. Its walls of luminous windows Sit still in a kinetic majesty of colors, Like the yew tree in its bounty of crimson berries. This refuge from the current disharmonies Radiates from its midst an unheard music And a conviviality suggesting a vicarious ecstacy. Here, perhaps, is that first step in darkness Of the empire prophesized to come, Bringing its measureless song Of the queen of the northern lights, Whose monarch calms the most vociferous tempest And warms the most bitter winter chill. Here, under the clouds of mortal brevity, Contained are the exotic reactions To long suppers and golden evenings From the replenishing of early traditions, Beyond youth’s humblest dreams. The twelve hearths fully aglow, Fueled with only kindling atoms, Tell of a future only they can know And every human mind fathoms. Within these high stone walls, Lit by radiant lamps’ glare, Every place an eye-beam falls, There is the glory of confident flair.