The House

Written by: Judith Angell Meyer

has a two story part,
a one story part,
a new part,
an old part
and an antique part.

Gables and pediments facing all directions of the compass
Tie all the parts together.

There are some concave outside walls;
There are some convex Inside walls.
The house breathes.	

It sees with its many large window lights;
Knowing where the kids are,
Watching the horses kick up their heels,
Catching glimpses of new spring kittens
	 scurrying out from under the porch,
Seeing with watchful eyes
	as the kids ski behind flying horses,
Keeping an eye on the dog
	herding the grand-baby away from the corrals.
Seeing the skunks, racoons,  foxes and coyotes
	slip by as we sleep,
They brace against the winds
	as they turn from south to north.

The glass in the antique part ripples
	keeping the view in constant motion – 
		never resting.

The grand antique porch has hosted birthdays; graduations; weddings;
	rendezvous and funerals.
Giving sanctuary to many a friend
	needing a place to come and sit in quiet for a while

The house takes comfort from the music of a whistle
	coming from the workshop.

Then watching the kids go, one at a time.
Then the whistler was gone – 
Yet it still holds out its arms and wings and peaks 
	securely protecting its remaining occupant.

The house suits me, 
	it is my eye candy,
		it holds my heart. 
I will live my last in this house
	surrounded by my life.