A Hollow House and a Warm Home
Yours is bigger
and full of stuff
and unwelcoming
angular, modern
furniture.
Mine is small
and colorful
and full
of backwards art
that I made
in my whimsical
corners
of a modest
existence.
The dogwood
is flowering
over the porch.
It will be over soon
and lots of petals
will fall
unappreciated
yet still modestly
breathtakingly
beautiful.
Your house has space
and framed pictures
in black and white
of handsome people
with frozen smiles.
My home has animals
scampering, twittering,
and sleeping,
and plants that struggle
for room in the slants
of sunlight.
Your house has
a quiet that comes
from emptiness.
There are clean
colors and lonely
rooms where no one
sits or passes through.
My home has just enough
laughter, dirt, clutter,
and future memories
for a lifetime
of collection.
A mourning dove
offers soft music
to the tattered ends
of a March sunset.
I sit in the grass
and focus.
How wonderful
it is to appreciate
the home I made my own.
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