The Dipper hangs in the right corner
of the two-over-one by my bed.
The left frame holds the empty sky,
the bottom square surrounds the barn.
Windows were the hard part.
From the ferry we pointed out
"There's a two-over-two;
how do you like it?"
Clearly one-over-one was too modern,
would not suit our house.
We split by generations.
She opted for tradition,
small panes of glass,
the way it had always been done.
But he wanted his islands, ocean, barn,
stretched wide, not cut into sections.
The compromise divided up the sky,
stars hang in narrow rectangles,
the horizon spreads below.