My little house,
I know you don't have a strong tether to the ground, just a few short stilts connect you. And I know that when the winds come sweeping around and under, that you feel so very made-of-plastic. Which you are. And I can feel you shaking, even though I'm tucked up in bed.
But do not worry, if we are carried off in a sudden gust, perhaps it will do some good - think of the heroic little house that landed on the wicked witch in Oz. Or maybe we could go on an adventure, like that brave little house that went to Paradise Falls, Venezuela.
It'll be okay.
Even if we are snatched by a tempest, we will be okay again. My anchor is strong enough for the both of us.