From bell tower to blossoms in flower it becomes a house that embraces all with its grace.

An afternoon after the house sat proudly on the top of the hill I wrote this:

THIS HOUSE

This house, a lofty sentinel
sits above the valley below the clouds
that part to let the sun beat down approvingly.
Majestic it stands, this monument,
firmly fixed into the earth from which it came.
Not long before it was a seed
that journeyed through our mind,
borne aloft by our imagination,
our will the weight to press it home.
Its root goes down beneath our time,
a well that gives up dignity.
No stranger here, its friends the sun,
the moon, the winged and wingless
fly and frolic in its shadow.
As children beneath her skirt
she lifts us up to her, embracing us,
her folds become our own.
This grace bestowed, we thus inherit
a legacy that’s laid, a cornerstone
that’s set in love, the mortar of the soul.