O house!
You ache like ourselves,
broken body in the humid air.
This time of asking for a new
roof, furnace, garage door, what
is seen
and unseen in the summer heat.
Workmen spread their tools, we
write
sad checks and moan like pipes.
You must feel the gifts we hand
you.
Even man-made nature has its vanity.
We wish you a good soul, atonement,
firm table and chairs, feasting
with friends,
dry crawl space, no leaks in
floors.
No less could we dream
in this face of ourselves, wood
and linoleum, that the animate
world
behold and know our faults and
firmities.
Be with us in our den of need,
usher these tromping workmen
home.