The Kitchen Light, The Bedroom Light Poem by Daniel Karbon

Little house on a dark hill, night time
The bedroom light is on. The Kitchen light
Is too.
As the hours pass and the Moon walks on through Heaven
The two small fires take turns shutting their eyes
as people without names or stories sleep softly in close chambers
Among piles of books and children.

Far below, a crumbling path holds the dark hill tightly.
On its back steps a traveler
With heavy feet and eyes that aren't quite shut and
Aren't quite open
Eyes that fall like a whiskey bottle tossed out the window
Eyes that don't take turns
And the traveler who is borrowing them walks and aches and shivers and looks up the hill
To the little house with the two winking fires
and the traveler thinks of Birthday Candles
The trick kind
And stars with cloud banks passing before them
Across the field of boundless night.