old-houseIt’s all about settling
This act of sitting still
Sliding imperceptibly
Shackled to the ground
As it shifts over time
And voices carry overhead
A cacophony of noise
Drifting down into the soil
Disturbing such casual rest
Without thought or care
While weeds grow wild
Obscuring the shrubbery
Facing west with the sun
Out past the wraparound porch
Where cold shadows gather
Like familial ghosts
Waiting for new playmates
As the noise begins to die
Replaced by an eerie silence
And a shifting of earth
Waiting for the tipping point
When we all settle down
Upsetting the delicate balance
Of love, and pride, and pity
As the land reclaims its own.



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