These People

I was one of them, once.

These People

Who are the people who live in these houses?

I can hear them whispering

in the ornaments on their lawns

and the windchimes swinging from their porches.

Ivy climbs faded brick into sunlight

hoping to catch the scent of daffodils

just peeking out at springtime.

I wonder if they are as bold, or shy?

Seven houses, lined up tight and mirroring

the rainbow yawning in the horizon.

I think my favorite is the pink one,

reminding me of a favorite quilt.

Who are these people who live in these houses?

I can see them when I close my eyes -

eating corn on the cobb with butter blocks

at the dinner table after prayer.