LIVING NOISE

A white house

At the foot of a hill

Stands patiently

While winds caress

Nurturing gentle erosion

It firmly lingers

And embraces

Man-made walls

Between wooden planks

It sizzles and cools

Teasing naked tree branches

Outside the window

Creaking, it groans

Every stillness heard

As it penetrates

The solid warmth

Turning sleeping silence

Into living noise