Tree houses of the Sky, perhaps,
these homes where dreamers dwell.
Breezes blow a lucent blue
passed walls of air our hosts pass through.
And if we hear the floorboards creak
from luminescent, cold bare feet,
and if the floor itself slant up
to reach the cupboard’s Common Cup,
no reason, law, or fear dictates
that one must move or sell.
We are the framers of this House
in which our tenant dreamers dwell
Happy Birthday, Emily,
Jesse Mavro Diamond