LIVING NOISE
A white house
At the foot of a hill
Stands patiently
While winds caress
Nurturing gentle erosion
It firmly lingers
And embraces
Man-made walls
Between wooden planks
It sizzles and cools
Teasing naked tree branches
Outside the window
Creaking, it groans
Every stillness heard
As it penetrates
The solid warmth
Turning sleeping silence
Into living noise
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