The house has a life of its own

when the halls are dark

and the tiles spreads out cold

beyond the murmurs of sleep

a clock ticks

and wind sings her way

around corners and over the roof

tiny feet patter

as reptiles climb for quiet nests

sheltered from raptor eyes

and their nocturnal hunting

the house has a life of its own

sheltering its sleeping family

strength and safety

and the comfort of home – Caroline A. Slee