A house is just a box we trust to thwart the elements,
To stall and stave as nature's rage assaults relentlessly,
And when the climate's brutal violence breaks this thin defense,
We stand perplexed by unexpected vulnerability.
The stalwart structures we erect are nothing to compare,
With ruthless storms, and all the forms they may precipitate,
All freeze and thaw, all natures laws, which we might find unfair,
Are but rejection of infections to eliminate.
We call it home, but all that's known and reasoned by this earth,
Are lifeless roots which shall pollute, and neither breed nor bud.
Our little box is just a pox, to seek out and reverse.
Thus shingles leak, foundations creak, paint peels, and basements flood.
