Woolgathering

Jim Hall

Before we began to accumulate
these lace curtains, these
carvings and vases bought
at mountain stores,
before we began to add weekly
to our house, these shelves
of bright solid objects,
the bone armadillo,
the ceramic rocks,
the belljar of seashells,
before we began to weigh
ourselves daily,
before all of this
and a long way before
when all we had was in two
footlockers and a Jim Beam box
back then when we moved a thousand
miles away a year
looking always ahead to a house
full of things that mattered
back before we bothered
over lawns or paint
when we were as light
as our checkbook
as light as light through these
lace curtains
back before when what we dreamed
was what we had
houses on islands, verandas wrapped
around, a rum sun, a ginger wind,
back before we came to settle
for lace curtains that make lush shadows
on the bedroom wall,
that make the backyard