The roof is made up of squares:
it is a round house
but the roof is divided into nine overlapping triangles.
So the squares line up with the straight edge
and are cut to fit the tapering one,
and the curve at the edge
like the sea’s horizon at the world’s rim
where falling waters curtain the void.
The problem with green rooves
(for such it is)
is the water draining from plant roots.
So my roof is made from drought loving sedum.
The squares are like interlocking eggboxes,
cupping a thin stony soil with moisture retaining felt
and the roots held in coir.
They were designed and propagated in southern England.
This is the Highlands of Scotland.
The sedum on the roof has given way to mosses, grasses,
the occasional thistle even,
while the meanest crevice in the granite
around the base of the house
blooms gentle pinks
and brash yellow
of fugitive sedum