My new home

The thunder crashes down every afternoon where the roots have just been planted.
Ticks run to bite and copperheads lurk in the fields but no twisters here.
A kitty that once was free now roams his North Carolina prison, purring happily.
The bedroom has been painted where Green Tara and Quan Yin will rule the nest.
The nameless shapely goddess with no face spreads her arms to the world.
With the twist of a wire the music fills the floors with sound.
Mahler’s fourth with an echo of tears wanders up the stairs.
Friends and family so precious and dear are far away now.
I gaze out at the mountain, the soft and rolling mountain,
My eyes wander to the plant outside the window.
And wonder if the leaves will survive the plight of the Japanese Beetle.