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