The Tree House

Green foliage shields it from the ground
Roots threaten to trip pedestrians
Who wander
Far from the walking trail
The tree house

Resting high in an elderly tree
Sun shining down on its roof
The tree house waits
For its maker to return

His head hanging low
The maker scales the ladder with ease to
Shut himself inside
Away from the world

When the sky darkens
He glances out the window toward his home
And decides against going back
Curling up on the
Rough wooden floor to sleep instead
Huddled in a blue hoodie
With his hands shoved deep in his pockets
And the tree house protects him
Ready for wind or rain
Or sleet or snow or whatever else
May come to harm its maker

The next morning, the maker leaves
To endure another day
And the tree house watches him go
Hoping, for the maker’s sake
That he decides to remain at home tonight
That he can stand to remain
At home

Since the nights are cold
And the wind can be harsh
It’s best he stay away, for now
And seek shelter in the place
He has no choice but to call home
But the tree house will be waiting
Ready to protect the maker best it can
If need be


Original image


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