Buying the home will

The silence of no news waiting to hear the future hinges between recklessness and hope

with expectations susceptible to winds of opinion leaving us homeless beggars for favors

or gullible settlers to rush out of bed for the least lost option.

Liquidity salves access without earning the interest of equity,

filling the karma stocks to hedge against the letdown.

Buying kind gestures wishing some goodwill will rub off on others with more charisma

or less self-esteem to risk niceties.

Habitize the practice and the deed gets repaid.

Start at the farm early cutting trees for family rooms.

Leave in rain clearing over hills to sit on new concrete

when the call came we went over the gravel to answer.

Chafing statements rain as scattered as pleasant ones.

Dodging and aiming takes leaping from negative to positive lenses of prediction.

The shyness hides love

left unsaid in the memory vaults that also house shame of rash bursts,

some abandoned to remember next to the someday repair wing.

Years spent in effort exhausted without a product;

Words and thoughts confined to one head expire wasted.

No, yelling at crowds doesn’t count,

and voids surround us,

but still measured sentiments shared limitless returns.

Introspection leads to isolation ignoring admiration and accolades that inspire action.

Don’t guess who loves you.

Speak the fear to defeat it

but fling your words haphazardly so they neither stick to you

or influence others.

The corner window guesses whether the roof will buckle under its weight

or the floor sink in competing victory

saving the chimney to crumble bricks on invasive roots.

Have the courage to be kind.

House on farm at night