Expectedly

houses are strong
and well insulated
in your
hinterland

but mine is on top
of the hill
kissed by the sun

it is open to the
air
they come and go
and come again

this is the house without
doors and stairs
a house deprived of
windows
and peeping holes
and cracks and
slits

this is the house of the
sun
the earth loves it
its body attached
to the grass

it has no pillars
but trees
no roof but clouds
no walls but spaces

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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