My Dream Home
A little shack in the woods
In a well-established and wild neighborhood
Rough sawn, hand hewn and cedar strong
This rustic haven comes with a time-tested tin roof
and built in rain- drop-sleep inducer
Solar heated with breezy-blow through cooling
Deer and other natives retain right -of-way
Living as I do
Beside busy people barely neighbors
Dodging cars and chasing time
Amongst trees that should not be here—
Where brittle Bradfords bear bitter fruit and
I crave quiet
A slower pace
Time measured in sunsets
And the return of the natives—
Liquid trickling songs of sparrows in the Longleaf
Ovenbirds teaching in oak and hickory
In a landscape fragmented by subdivisions
Named for the wildness they replaced
I am marooned
Stuck in a sea of cement
On an island called suburbia
Begging and baiting the birds to eat black oil handouts
The wildlife-
squirrels and starlings
Chipmunks and chickadees
Find refuge between the chain-link
The lines drawn to keep lawns sovereign
The world I crave is far away
In woods and fields and forests
Nameless and whole
Where the neighbors don’t speak
But bark, and gobble and sing
Where the squirrels are less brazen
And deer not dogs guard the world
The days when pen and paper do not meet
When the lettered keys grow cold
When inspiration flies away
Darting between hum and drum
To avoid the ordinary
Like some fleet and furtive accipiter
I wonder when the mood will return-
A day a week or more?
When trees or birds or sky will inspire
A line or two
A reflection of time or place
The in between days are empty pages
No hunts no pecks
Until maybe
a vermillion flash through a wall of green
and a cardinal ‘s sweet song
“Purdy, purdy, purdy”
Full, rich and clear
Cheers the day
or a sinking sun
mellow golden orb against an orange and purple sky
dying to be reborn against the next morn’s new one
sets the mood to feel and think and write
of sights, sounds and scenes
until in-between
the doldrums sap the creative winds
and the sails fall flat
mind adrift until once more
the trades fill the canvas
and the in-between day
is just a memory
