I am the roof. I feel the wind whispering secrets across my shingles, the rain drumming urgent messages upon my back, the snow weighing me down like invisible hands. The sun kisses me every morning, relentless yet warm, and I stretch beneath its gaze, shielding what lies below. I am the threshold between chaos above and calm below. Without me, everything crumbles; with me, life continues, safe and unaware.
Storms do not frighten me; they test me. Hail pelts my surface, bending me, scarring me, yet I endure. Each crack that forms, each tile that shifts, is a story http://www.reigate-redhillmusicfest.org.uk/ written by time and elements. I feel the tremor of water sneaking through tiny gaps, a silent invader, threatening the life beneath. That is when the humans arrive—roofers, healers, guardians of my structure. They touch me with purpose, mend my wounds, reinforce my frame. With their skill, I am renewed, ready to face another tempest.
I converse with the sky. The wind tells me tales of distant lands; the rain confesses its intentions; the sun teases and tests me. I respond in kind, flexing, shifting, holding steady, ensuring the world below sleeps undisturbed. Every nail driven, every shingle replaced, every seam sealed by human hands is a reassurance—a pact that I will continue my vigil.
Sometimes, I grow weary. Age creeps along my beams, and my shingles crumble with fatigue. Then comes replacement—a rebirth. Fresh materials, sturdy and gleaming, rise where I once held court. I watch, grateful, as a new guardian takes my place, continuing the work I began. It is not death but continuation; it is legacy.
Maintenance is my meditation. Cleaning gutters, checking seams, minor repairs—they are rituals that keep me alive and vigilant. They honor my duty and extend my life, ensuring I can keep the world below safe from storms, snow, and sun.
I am more than wood, metal, or tiles. I am protection, witness, and silent sentinel. I endure storms that no one notices, carry weight that no one sees, and protect lives that no one thanks me for. Yet I do not complain. My satisfaction is in the security of the lives below and the careful hands that preserve me.
So when the sky rages, when snow falls heavy, or rain hammers with fury, know I am here. I hold the sky so the world beneath can continue in peace. And with the artisans who care for me, I will continue my quiet, tireless work—forever the invisible guardian above us all.