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Ruth Holzer

Gorsehayes, Ipswich

Every room was painted a different color of the Wedgwood palette: mustard in the kitchen, deep blue for the dining room, moss-green in living room and dusky rose for the bedroom. Hedgehogs came into the yard at night, grunting and tumbling around their dishes of milk. Leaning far out of the back window, I could see a bit of the River Orwell.

twisted branches—
through the monkey puzzle tree
full summer moon

The neighbors in their identical houses in the suburban maze of Broomhayes, Willowhayes and Heatherhayes kept to themselves. They might lend you a ladder or a hammer once, but not twice. I was raising a glossy young jackdaw who had fallen from his nest.

Station Road—
hopping off the London train
to see my Jack