A House in the Trees

The way the light dances on the furniture and all of the walls,

the way the breeze invites itself in through the front windows unannounced like an old friend,

the way the birds sing and chirp in the morning and the neighbors chickens cluck goodnight to us,

it all makes me feel like I’m in the trees all days.

My couch might as well be a hammock I relax on with the breeze swinging me back and forth,

My kitchen might as well be a garden I pick food from warming itself in the late afternoon sun,

My bathroom might as well be a secret watering hole only we know about to dip and refresh in,

My bedroom might as well be a secluded treehouse that was left on an old property never to be found again,

My front porch might as well be a spot next to the trunk of a old tree with the birds and bugs,

My house might as well be a house in the trees.