A Home

A little house aged and battered,

white paint chipping under the sun’s gaze

and storm’s tender rains.

A hundred years of stories in these walls.

Maybe a hundred more?

A broken fence.

A dead tree’s final message to the world.

The tattered barn out back.

How many workdays under its tireless watch?

The overgrown field.

Now a refuge and feeding ground

for four-legged denizens and grateful insects.

The old pond down the hill.

A bastion of life

and calm spot for reflection.

A place one could call home.

A place one might start

the long road to peace.

This little house,

a battered gem in paradise.