My Place

moons silvers the clouds
pit-patter on the window
the sense of return

my place
old stone yellow brick

after five days’ rain
I sit by the stove
as it grumbles and pops

in the circle of darkness
years can settle

‘bye now’ ‘see y’later’
leave the door open
let what we’ve said breathe into the night

first sun warms the dawn
crows clatter in the bright birch

oak leaves bobbing
chit-chit-chit-chit of squirrel-squabble

OK, ready to roll
cross the legs, lengthen the spine

this is the straight road
through a world of no roof, no walls

yes, without ends

From: Travels in the Middle Land, Dhamma Moon, 2013.
Posted 17.11.2009

Posted: Tue 21 May, 2013