End of the road There’s a cold corner at the end of the lane where the heart of a house was broken. Each day glass thins in the frames, salt from the bay below rusts the door lock. Shadow-laughter fades up through the skylight where full moon once captured diamond-bright, a ring of iced glitter through the slate roof. Outside snow fell, uncharacteristic on Atlantic shores. Whiter than white the wash of it seemed limitless, merged in silence between gardenia glaze of moonlight and sky’s frozen breath.   Rocks walls built to hold the family in carve into the wounded…