by Maura Eichner, SSND ‘41
The house is 80 years old.
The wood is soft-boned.
They have taken old windows
out and eased in the new
on honed aluminum frames.
Behind the glaze, you will
hear the wind thrumming
names from the past:
code on glass.
In and out of this old house
spirits move. It holds
a resonance of grief.
It is an ancient flume of love,
belief, beyond belief.
by Maura Eichner, SSND ’41
Consider the season’s wheel;
the turn of summer creeping over
leaves one incurved tendril on the vine,
one pointed peak of sweet, late clover.
Initiate the heart to change
for it is wiser so,
accepting the splendor of the hour
white with clematis or snow.
Fortify the will with peace;
no season taking root,
tranquil in mist, in warmth, in frost,
each bears fruit.