September rain falls on the house. <br />In the failing light, the old grandmother <br />sits in the kitchen with the child <br />beside the Little Marvel Stove, <br />reading the jokes from the almanac, <br />laughing and talking to hide her tears. <br /> <br />She thinks that her equinoctial tears <br />and the rain that beats on the roof of the house <br />were both foretold by the almanac, <br />but only known to a grandmother. <br />The iron kettle sings on the stove. <br />She cuts some bread and says to the child, <br /> <br />It's time for tea now; but the child <br />is watching the teakettle's small hard tears <br />dance like mad on the hot black stove, <br />the way the rain must dance on the house. <br />Tidying up, the old grandmother <br />hangs up the clever almanac <br /> <br />on its string. Birdlike, the almanac <br />hovers half open above the child, <br />hovers above the old grandmother <br />and her teacup full of dark brown tears. <br />She shivers and says she thinks the house <br />feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove. <br /> <br />It was to be, says the Marvel Stove. <br />I know what I know, says the almanac. <br />With crayons the child draws a rigid house <br />and a winding pathway. Then the child <br />puts in a man with buttons like tears <br />and shows it proudly to the grandmother. <br /> <br />But secretly, while the grandmother <br />busies herself about the stove, <br />the little moons fall down like tears <br />from between the pages of the almanac <br />into the flower bed the child <br />has carefully placed in the front of the house. <br /> <br />Time to plant tears, says the almanac. <br />The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove <br />and the child draws another inscrutable house.<br /><br />Elizabeth Bishop<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sestina/
