Dburode

The house with the blue door
Unassuming on the hill
Enclosed in glorious bursts of green and yellow
(colors on steroids)

It boasts of history
Untold stories
Heeded only in the night
Through creaking walls
And groaning floors
Shifting in rhythms
Aligning with the wind

Inhale the air
Cool and damp
Words spoken stick to mist
Breathing it in
Like tasting something
Altogether untouched

Quiet is a sound
So pure on that hill
Interrupted only by
Salty waves
Dancing below
They speak to the house
With the blue door

And the night
So dark
The white house
Camouflaged in black
And the sky

Pierced by the
Ordered chaos of stars
They perform for bemused eyes
And cry out to their Maker
The One who holds them all in place

And the moon
Smiles in the company of the speckled light