December 26, 2019

The New House

By Kat Myrman

The New House

No creaky floors, no walls

that groan with century old tales,

no glaring street lights dimming

the star-flecked, velvet veil.

No nosy neighbors peaking

through shuttered curtain slits,

the quiet here is deafening

but for a hawk’s shrill twit.

The timpani of woodpeckers,

a lone owl’s soft hoot hoo,

gray squirrels cluck from lofty boughs

and deer folk bound from view.

Here, just enough is everything

a body needs and more,

simplicity’s perfection gleams

from white-washed walls and doors.

It’s rather like a dream here still,

of drywall, sticks and stone.

She stood here empty on a hill

until I called her home.

~kat

(Settling in, finding my voice amidst new surroundings…and perhaps a tiny nudge from a sleepy muse!)

This entry was posted on Thursday, December 26th, 2019 at 9:30 pm and tagged with , , , , and posted in Digital Art & Photos, Poetry, Random Thoughts and Musings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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