And Again.

Apparently it's poetry week at the Wasatch Report. I woke up thinking of this line:

"Suddenly in this doorway where I stand
in this house I see this place again"

Even in bed, in the dark, knowing what day it was or what time it was, I knew that line to be the first line of the second stanza of William Stafford's "At Our House."

I first read this poem in Dr. Burkholder's class, "literature and the natural world," during my freshman year of college. That class altered nearly everything for me: my course of study, my career path, my feelings toward wild places, my belief structure.

At Our House*
William Stafford

Home late, one lamp turned low,
crumpled pillow on the couch,
wet dishes in the sink (late snack),
in every child's room the checked,
slow, sure breath--

Suddenly in this doorway where I stand
in this house I see this place again,
this time the night as quiet, the house
as well secured, all breath but mine borne
gently on the air--
And where I stand, no one.



*I've posted this poem before, but it's worthy of another.