What the Planks Remember

Aged oak, weathered and

worn, the creaking planks give

easily

under our weight.

Decades catching every

foot and paw print that

walked together, grain

by grain.

A familiar hello, a whisper:

don’t go, or simply,

you are not alone.

Warmed by the gentle hum of

the heater.

Cooled by the sigh of air.

Continuously shaped by

expansion and contraction,

learning to adjust and endure

both.

Windows and doors invite the

sun

and moonlight in, calling

you gently awake, lulling you

back to sleep.

This is a place that trusts

what lives inside.

The roof sings in spring rain,

eaves carve ice through

winter snow.

Each decade echoes warmth

and laughter,

holds pain and tears,

proudly displaying its scars,

holding space with steady

care,

year after year.

—FromTenderGround 🧡