yellow house on Lyndale
stucco, warm and bright
sits upon a steep incline
surveying what’s in sight
so much the canary
who knows its song is best
saffron hut, in maple glow
a perfect golden nest
I can feel its windows
regard me on its lane
I wonder what it tallies
of my upward lasting gaze
perhaps it deems I don’t belong
on Lyndale long agleam
a borrower of sidewalk views
address pretend and dream
but I suspect it honors me
this girl who marks its worth
stucco, warm and yellow house
perched in light and earth
“We do not want merely to see beauty… we want something else which can hardly be put into words- to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.” – CS Lewis
image: painting by Mark Rothko
SILVER PENNIES 
I hope that one day a poet had stopped to regard the catalpa on Wooddale and wrote of her desire . . .
I know the house and never has it seemed more vivid than in this poem — and the Lewis quote is a treasure this fall! You should, if you haven’t already, slip a copy of your poem in the canary house mailbox.