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Our house is a box is a beautiful box
with windows and movable shutters.
Out the front window is the sea,
out the back a tree
with heart-shaped leaves
dripping rain.

You bring me a pitcher of rain
for my hair, I help crabs
out of their pots for supper.
We sit at our table
overlooking the water,
the sun goes down on its string.
The rain makes everything
bluer than itself.
We sleep between
the waves and the trees.

Across our bed each night
the moon is a highway of light.
I sleep against
the wall of your back;
you face the sea.
I see the black trunk of a tree.
I close my eyes and put my arms
around it and reach for you.
We dangle from one green heart.

      — Teresa White