January Musings/2 mini podabbles

I see an old house

Out the window of this moving car

And I feel love for it.

For all the old houses

And the memories they hold

Some good

Some tragic

All ancient

Speaking through the timbers

Whispering in the walls

And gesturing with rotted window drapes.

These houses, gutted or stuffed to the gills

How many are there

Scattered across the country, across the world

And how to see them all?

 We come home in below zero weather

Ice lacing the truck windows

Breath clouding the cab

We come home

To a warm, stuffy house

And crouch in front of a roaring fire

Leaning in to be embraced by tendrils of glorious heat

One of the loveliest feelings