Night With a Young Wife in August
By Eugene Ruggles
We climb the ancient stairs of the dark farmhouse.
She guides me over the threshold of each step.
The lamp she lights was her grandmother's,
and the small piano she opens
beside the simple bed.
Our lives empty.
We rest in her country.
Here, during the growing season
the river sinks and everywhere even at night
the sun is a good three inches deep in the earth