I Am Born To Build A House

I am born to build a house.

Wind whips cross my prairie.

I am fortunate to be sheltered in arms.

Some gave me a foundation

From the living art.

It has holes, worn from ages.

Walls and roof I quickly raise

I have windows and a door

(maybe more…)

I look out my window at nightness.

Standing in my doorway I am scarred

By the whipsaw wind

Some venture beyond their door;

I’ve seen them falter

Just beyond view – I know it.

I hope to see far,

Battered and bathed,

in the wanting and the waiting.