The house in the Woods.

[busker]

Then woke to birds singing, blackbird, lark.
It liked the rough feel of bark on its bricks,
the way leaves fell on its lintel,
how roots grasped like hands in the dark.

Became its home. Sorrow was a thing of the past.
But the hunting party of lawyers were closing in.
The dogs were out in front, with wet black noses.
They were hunting out those things that were not meant to last.

Loved this poem.

'the dogs were out in front with wet black noses' is a great line.
the image of lawyers as a hunting party is a nice one.
overall, nice atmospherics

Duke has noted where you can improve it, but otherwise good job.