Parsonage

These empty rooms
quicken at my presence

I conjure them filled:
here
                a chair, footstool,
table with lamp; knitting bag
casually set down

Facing the fireplace
                a couch; on the seat,
an open prayer book

Frocked faces, in ornate
frames relax their
Rembrandt stance
as a child’s toy whirrs
across the carpet