This house has good bones. Soil is vacated for better feed, walls are unburdened with memory, and floorboards abandon their old arches for new footfall. It buzzes in anticipation, gathering itself so tall its nails rise—certain to catch a toe or three. Please let it be three. There are lonely years to make up for. Its love is abundant, wrapped in flower and vine so it won’t spill in the road from which the guests have begun to arrive. This house has good bones. Come, and see.
