A few times in
We stumble into a place that entrances and entraps us
we known the outcome of that moment,
Like a sensible person we might have
tried to hurry away,
Coats pulled over our heads
half closed eyes
firmly to the ground.
But of course
the place has other plans.
Rubbing its hands together it gently tugs
A half open door,
The scent of cooking,
contrive to pull at our senses.
We shuffle to a
poised on the brink of mindchange,
Hands flex nervously, feet
yearning to retrace
As of course they will
as full well the place
For it has played this game many, many times before.
glance shows the door a little wider now.
The climbing plants hugging mellow
bricks around the porch
Seem to rustle knowingly
comes another one.
Maybe one more minute
wait and see.
The house sits
Craftily it sends the sound of voices through the open
Twitches the curtains, revealing the tantalizing outline of a
Maybe a woman
no, a group of people secure inside
it seems just waiting to be joined.
is still some choice
The head insists that to admire the setting and
the outline of the trees,
The pale new moon above the rooftop,
to the early evening birdsong,
The rustling in the hedges
leave a small token in the porch, on the upturned
To be found
When the house is closed up, will surely be
But of course the heart says differently.
Sensing an easy
victory, the house has turned on its evening
And now has lured new
steps through its doorway.
Has enticed new eyes into its glowing
Has seduced a new worshipper
just as it always knew it
And as it also
Once that move is made
The darkness left behind, door pushed
open, threshold crossed,
Eyes lifted into the lamplight and warmth
There is no choice but love the place and the people lodging