Aston Hall
(for my ancestors)
The gables brood over
the manicured lawn,
dark red brick, imposing;
the towers stand menacing.
Clouds move over the estate,
swift and foreboding.
One can image the specters
of Sleepy Hollow,
flashing from one room
to another,
over the old man’s portrait,
gray and dirty with smoke,
over the dining hall
with its polished table
through hallways reaching
like fingers into bedchambers.
The doorway is immense,
dark cedar and brass,
a twelve-foot high gaping mouth,
devouring all who enter.
(for my ancestors)
The gables brood over
the manicured lawn,
dark red brick, imposing;
the towers stand menacing.
Clouds move over the estate,
swift and foreboding.
One can image the specters
of Sleepy Hollow,
flashing from one room
to another,
over the old man’s portrait,
gray and dirty with smoke,
over the dining hall
with its polished table
through hallways reaching
like fingers into bedchambers.
The doorway is immense,
dark cedar and brass,
a twelve-foot high gaping mouth,
devouring all who enter.