The little hut

Layers of straw

Keep the rain out

But the stone walls

Do little to keep out the cold

And so the outside finds it’s way in

Brick-red soil

Hard and cracked

The pebbles and thorns stick to your feet

You can’t wash them off before entering

And so the outside finds it’s way in

Great hills of marigold

Fence its borders

It keeps the snakes out

They say

But the yellow brings in the bees

And so the outside finds it’s way in

The little child fumbles around

Chubby hands on a bucket’s rim

Pushing it across the floor

It doubles as a walking stick

Anything of interest is picked up

Lizard’s tail

Hibiscus

Pebble on the ground

All dropped into the bucket

And so the outside finds it’s way in