The Viewing

 

Recall the first afternoon, arriving

At the cabin as heavy scud pushes up

The canyon trailing cold rain.

 

It is like the quickening of first love,

Driveway circling blackberry bramble,

Stands of wild fennel, steeply rising wood,

 

And the cabin itself, slightly ramshackle

But weathertight. The big picture window

Frames an orchard reclaimed by pell-mell,

 

And beyond it blacktop's thin bow,

Vineyards' long rise and fall.
Only just hidden below,

 

River's broad curve, then far slope's wall,

Huge and blank at first, but when your eyes

Accustom to green-black, a thin mist shawl

 

Circles a redwood, and tangled ranks rise
In vision, one after the other.

Another river of raincloud flies

 

From ocean upstream, sweeping over
Ridgeline then dropping down to hide it.

Now you are inside. The landlords turn

Lights on and the world outside dims.

Remember this too, the moment when

You stood on the threshold and the scrim

 

Descended. Here's the contract you signed then.