How strange to carve a hole in space
And cover over the hole, and call it
Home, to decorate our little bits
Of endless cosmos, and hide our face
From trees and wind and the wet air
That rises up from the grass in Spring
Where we will desperately open things
Up to let the wind blow through, how dare
Anyone come into this hole unwelcomed
When everything is free, floating in the sky
That never ends, and our tiny hollows honed
Against the weather that gave birth to you and I
How strange a thing a house can be
To live and love and grow and build and die
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