Wednesday, February 26, 2014

where am I?

Sunday 7:19 a.m.  

Light in room comes from a window framing a mountain with snow
and the early morning fingers of color in the sky blue and red

From your vantage a coverlet, white, eyelet and under that an ivory fleece blanket
Upon further inspection
A painting of a bridge, oil, blue and grey with brown
a claw foot tub 
in the bathroom under a window....

Through the window in the bathroom, up the road and covered in snow
Is that Mary Lyon's Winter School for Young Ladies?

A spinning wheel next to the dresser and a chair with a needlepoint footstool...
On the dresser, a copy of Yankee Magazine
You reach for it it up to read about the fate of lobster men but is that ....
the smell of bacon?

You dress quickly. Freezing.
Downstairs a fire in the living room, no longer embers like last night...

You cross a hooked rug to the dining room where sun glints on the 
china and the cutlery and on the orange juice in blue goblets
You sit to a warm muffin and you are handed a mug of strong coffee  
that warms you, recently brewed, recently ground, where is this place?

You peek in the kitchen
Is that the lady?
who let you in last night
she was wearing a white woolen nightgown?
and her hair, down?

Is this Emily Dickinson's house?

You look out the dining room window and there is your car
in front of your car another car
with New Hampshire plates
owned by people sitting next to you

They ask and
you say you are at a conference at Rowe Center on Rt. 2
.... got in late last night

This is where you landed
lucky you. It comes to you later in the form of some recipes 
a talisman, two of them, of the experience.

You were at the "birdhouse" in Buckland
an Inn from long ago but still here.

The daughter of the woman who let you in
fed you eggs benedict
and offered two recipes for rhubarb dishes 
a plant that grows in their side yard.