by Theresa Ann Moore
It’s small wooden frame house
With sturdy timbers that reassure.
Lifted shades let sunlit dreams inside
Optimism ignores aging, sun baked, shingles.
The humble structure has a family inside
The guardian shields from elements outside.
Observing the glow of candles and happy events
Its warm heart and gentle arms offer comfort.
Breezes of leisure, blow across the porch
cats lay like pillows on rails as they doze.
Rose blooms are radiant jewels, scenting the air.
Squirrels hunt nuts like gold gathering prospectors.
Pine trees are towering shade providing giants.
Their scaly cones plummet like grenades
The lawn is a carpet of supple green blades
giving thanks for a long and satisfying rain.
A sense of well being lives inside and out
It is a mansion in disguise, without a doubt.