The Mud House
A backroom of our old mud house collapsed
last night—no earthquake, no storm, no bomb—
well worn, it crumpled. This morning we fell
silent; we knew we’d not be able to rebuild it.
The Mud House
A backroom of our old mud house collapsed
last night—no earthquake, no storm, no bomb—
well worn, it crumpled. This morning we fell
silent; we knew we’d not be able to rebuild it.