Through the Keyhole

He knocked at a door in mid-winter.
The darkness slept around him.
Giant ghosts roared in the frost.
He did not know what waited
At that half-lit threshold.
What spirit! What gesture! What light!
There was a moon-shaped slit
In the wooden apparatus.
A keyhole with no end!
Through it he saw a cosmos dancing.
He saw a world flicker out of being.
He saw giant jowls that consumed the stars,
A lovely womb birthing suns.
He stumbled back, falling lightly
In the snow, wild and astonished.
Around him, nothing out of place
For an evening in December.
Just a bit of wind and darkness.
A traveler. A stranger’s door.