At the Sound, the rocks were gray.
The rocks were gray against the water.
Rose quartz filled the yards, at dusk.
The needles rose and fell in the firs.
The noises from inside stayed quiet,
Music and steam. A brindle pit bull
Gave up barking, far away.
A hammer lay beneath the bed.
Though no child was home, that sheet
Stretched, midnight blue from a box
Of Crayolas, though no child was home.
Between a door and a table, the cardinal
Seemed, from his photograph,
To smile, to smile, to smile
For all the red reasons.