Now, my reading tour seems to have coincided with Halloween.
And I said earlier to somebody that all my poems
are Halloween poems.
So that was all convenient.
And here's a thing that isn't in the book,
but it's a ghost story for a late Halloween.
And it's just that, it's just a ghost story.
And it's called the "Dream House."
"For 10 years, I dreamt of the same house
until I knew every corridor and cornice, the grain of the wood
in every board, the way light fell in different rooms
at different times of day.
Its lines and angles grew more perfect dream by dream.
This summer, walking in woods near a town I'd never
been before, I came to this familiar gate and beyond that,
saw a path I recognized.
And there it was with a sign, "for sale,"
among larch and pine and Sycamore, the dream house.
I rang the bell.
And when the owner came, I asked him
if he'd think it very strange if I showed him round.
To the left, I explained, is the lounge and paneled library.
To the right, the long dining room with the kitchen beyond.
As we went upstairs to the four bedrooms
with their broad-bay windows and the blue drapes,
I was stopped dead on the landing by a small, red deer--"
a small red deer?
A small red door.
This is so crumpled.
I can't-- now that would be a shock.
[LAUGHTER]
OK, I'll just go back there so you
don't think I'm entirely mad or have taken acid or something--
"as we went upstairs to the four bedrooms
with their broad-bay windows and blue drapes,
I was stopped dead on the landing
by a small red door I'd never seen before.
It was new, he said, and just put in that day.
Downstairs, I asked him what he wanted for the house.
He named a price so low I think I showed my surprise,
but said I'd take it.
Then he told me why it was cheap.
Because it was haunted.
But said, I shouldn't mind.
It would be fine for me, since I was the ghost.
That was a month ago and now I have the keys.
I explore, knowing each room like my own body
until I remember the tiny, red door.
The keys are all too big except for one
the size of a sparrow's claw.
I kneel down and open the lock, and there in the darkness
is a miniature house.
Through the windows, in behind the walls,
I see my son is safe indoors.
How little he's grown.
Look at him.
The boy I dreamt had died 10 years before."