You wake at the hour you always wake, and the first sound in the room is your own body. Then you put your feet on the floor and the boards answer with a creak of their own, the same note, the same grievance, and for a moment you cannot say which is the house and which is you.
You wake at the hour you always wake, and the first sound in the room is your own body.
Then you put your feet on the floor and the boards answer with a creak of their own, the same note, the same grievance, and for a moment you cannot say which is the house and which is you.
You knelt, you meant every word, and you asked for something that mattered.
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You wake at the hour you always wake, and the first sound in the room is your own body. Then you put your feet on the floor and the boards answer with a creak of their own, the same note, the same grievance, and for a moment you cannot say which is the house and which is you. You knelt, you meant every word, and you asked for something that mattered.
The hinge-noise of a machine left out in the weather.
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