A House Retires

A house is melting into its leisure.

The green tin roof bends itself into fanciful angles,

achieving arches and curves

with corners dripping

like cool summer pleasure

laid thoughtlessly in the sun. 

Creeping plants previously prohibited 

rise slowly through the shrubbery,

slide up the siding

to find windows waiting open and smiling. 

So the vines pour themselves in, filling the rooms with a leafy slosh. 

And the ceiling beams are dizzy to touch green life again.

The walls welcome

the brush of tendrils,

the pressure of clinging roots,

the ticklish cracking of the rigid plane they have courteously held 

since they were put just so.

Now their orderly particles shake loose,

dusting plaster like sugar

for beetles and flies 

who will join the celebration 

or trip away, sparkling in the breeze on their way to some new ground. 

At last

wooden posts succumb. 

They soften their knees and shoulders to test relief,

then let their work go,

curving into smiles of anticipation as the floor below them also relaxes,

and all the edified parts sink closer,

dip their toes into the cool earth cellar,

waiting for the plunge.

© Laura Seale, 2012

Abandoned House; photo by Daniel Leininger
from Wikimedia Commons