at the door

He became a believer when he opened the door. It had been a quiet new year. He was reciting the Frost poem, about woods dark and deep, and promises. The yard light was on, illuminating the drive and the front stairs. His dachshunds started barking. There was a raccoon that liked to raid the suet feeder. Then a faint knock. His neighbors were summer occupants only. He shushed the dogs. It was a girl wearing shorts and a light top. She wore no shoes, just one sock. Her nose was bleeding. There was a plane crash. She followed his light.