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.

                                                                                       --David Radavich



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