The Old House

In the wind 
the old house 
creaks its age,
rafters sway, 
and a storm 
forces wood 
to turn 
out of a fear 
of tornadoes. 

Twice-struck 
by lightning, 
twice rebuilt,
dry wood crumbles 
and falls earthward
to mix with mortar 
that has drifted 
to the base of the 
foundation. 

Local children pick 
at the foundation 
itself, carrying off pieces 
to build small castles 
or for use as missiles 
in their latest wars. 

I do not stop them 
for fear one may be another 
Frank Lloyd Wright...for fear 
the wrong side 
may win.