Here We Are
Dear house.
“Home is here” you said, “if you will wait.” And here we are, a year gone; our own gate, Some flowers, Nine windows, The right number of walls, half a roof To keep our treasure safe whenever the rough Weather blows. Outside, Beyond our bottom fence the wheat moves Like quicksand; a mile away the hooves Of the tide Race From sky to shore; out on the marsh, under A wheeling ceiling of birds, rain and thunder Embrace The flowing Dykes, home of the eels and leaping pike. And here on the land all the things we like Are growing. So may We, so happy to find this kingdom meant For us to people with our love, consent To stay. |