The old sod house,
The west wind
chit, chit, chatters the hinges,
The door creaks to 'n fro,
Vermin music to the denizen within.
The old sod house on the hill,
The windows were broken long ago
Like old folks who've lost their 20/20.
And the memories too have leaked
Through that busted fenestration.
Where most the year the wind is weir
And long ago caught the laughter
That onetime surely resided here.
Hard to know who did lived there.
There's only one that surely knows,
I'll ask the wind.

*This poem is a collaboration with joann alabsy who inspired its creation an contributed generously.  Any and all short comings reside at my door.