All Escaping’s Hiding

For a winter or two,
They had a small greenhouse
That the father had built

Nestled in backyard woods,
And inside it was warm,
Smelling dank and fusty,

And what book-worming child
Who liked to be alone
And comfortably warm

Wouldn’t hide out in there
Among the tomatoes
That were the chief reason

The greenhouse had been built,
Since the father loved them
Fresh off the vine? Science

Fiction, especially,
Made good hothouse reading,
Sitting on sacks of soil

Twice removed from the world
That was snowing outside,
Dull and chilly at home.