Sestina

September rain falls on the house. In the failing light, the old grandmother sits in the kitchen with the child beside the Little Marvel Stove, reading the jokes from the almanac, watching the wooden dummy guess the wrong answers.

The old grandmother sits in the kitchen with the child beside the Little Marvel Stove, reading the jokes from the almanac, watching the wooden dummy guess the wrong answers.

All the rain seems to have grown into flowers, into clouds over the mountain, over the town. And the trees, survey the land to Everything that waits. Our eyes raised heavenward, the sky remains ablaze.

• Elizabeth Bishop