The pull of the moon

There is never silence in the old house because of the rattling radiator
And the paint chips that fall upon it and the creaky walls that loosen the paint chips
And the rusty beams that wiggle the walls and the ocean air that rust the beams
And the pull of the moon that salts the ocean and the big bang that spun it round
There is never silence in the old house because of the model train set
And the drivers, three triplet children, and their makers, two tired parents
And the parents' makers, their parents, and the ones after that after that
And the pull of the moon that salts the ocean and the big bang that spun it round
There is never silence in the old house because of the industrious termites
And the raccoon who scared the termites to the walls and the boats that scared off the racoon
And Randy at the shop who fixed the boats and his husband's baked goods that keep them in business
And the pull of the moon that salts the ocean and the big bang that spun it round
There is never silence in the old house because of the dish-dropping counters
And the mortar that crooked the counters, and the rain that thinned the mortar
And the low tide pools that fed the rain, and the tide that filled the pools
And the pull of the moon that salts the ocean and the big bang that spun it round