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