Neighbors

Light strikes the walls
like sun on running water,
heavy and bottle green,
pales gables and corbels.
The studs loom, translucent.
Even the eaves shine,

frame this temple forged
by fire and sand. From your hearth
of stones gathered,
you view the drive
unwinding, the river's curve below.
You bank on the safety
of what you can see.

Down the glass steps, gravel path,
a man stops, regards
this home all windows,
remembers the rock in your hand.