This house is our shield,
our nest camouflaged,
our skysraper coat,

our duplex umbrella,
our cabin hat and our sunscreen
tiny home.

This house is our yoga pose,
the water we surface from,
sanctuary we pray in.

This house is our plot where
we trowel and prepare rows,
where we look out at the familiar

morning, where we can dig deep to
remove stones and make sculptures
out of them.  This house is where

we hammock and turn pages, where
we practice comedy routines
with our sidekick Moonbeam cat.

This house is where we molt
in spring like last year’s cattail,
where we can catch fire

like a phoenix and break ground
unimpeded like a tulip tree.