The Sun House

One beautiful tree of heaven was enough to make something you could live in.

—Eleanor Raymond

Building things is simple.

The earth is quite willing to direct

with frank gestures, a shrug of grass,

a nodding bough.

I have often wondered

why houses were not made like ships

for sailing between trees.

What a passage we might make then:

my sister’s house

headed due southeast

cresting Beacon Hill.

A funny story?

Well, I have always preferred rain.

In Germany I saw a tree from China

growing in the park. I had a notion

to curl in its branches like a worm

and spin silk for the rest of my days.

It was a moment of selfishness.

That, I will not say,

but I am no misanthrope.

If I am in love,

I will say

this is yours, and it is.