There was a house in the forest
named for a city of trees.
In springtime, the house grew
from loam, with its roots
buried deep. It grew and became
its own garden, spreading in fine
spring rain. A woman knelt
in the mud casting spells,
and every room filled
with the songs of many birds.
Through summer it grew
into a green melody, entwined
in bushes and ferns. In autumn
the house blazed
but was not consumed.
Now the woman sang,
and her voice rose above the moon.
Winter came and the house
disappeared, replaced by silence
and cold. The city of trees froze.
With skillful hands, the woman
placed it carefully in a glass
sphere, which she carried in a small
bag made of sunlight, and clouds,
and the frigid blue of a darkening sky.
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