Our house, built wood, wind, music.

Each ladder a tune, rung, a poem or two.

Passing water through jars for coffee.

Humming the beauty up from streams.

Singing and feeding on love.

What sustains us, lullabies

and stories. The mountains grandeur.

Each night, we compose

Our own song.

Of the river and resurrection.

We speak of paradise.

Letting each shrill bird

Build the nest of their dreams.

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