Some nice weather moving in tonight.
I let go my worry while I keep to prayers,
For everywhere else I turn a
Blizzard, now tornado,
Blizzard, as I mentioned,
But here the splattering rain.
Reserving the
Right to complain,
Because when it doesn't go well and
Wind blows against the house,
Hard rain comes through the ceiling,
Snowdrifts darken the windows and
The progress to the barn
I am become disoriented.
Shall I let the elements create here?
After all, I'm just passing through,
Or can I just complain?
Right now, sure steady rain,
A hint of wind, manifesting
On the metal roofs, as
I sit here listening, feeling
The this of wind and rain, an
Ancient dance
Over and through the land and heaven.
I peer out my back windows, deep into
The forest's inky night
Across the Finger Lakes
And beyond, beyond my vision or
Any hint of one single thing but sky,
Hundreds of miles way outside my
Ken give way to cities, speed limits,
Signs and confusions I'll
Encounter as I wend my way through
Outcroppings on my way to home.
It is time to think about
Home. Other people may
Describe it, but
When I start out, quietly
Backing out my drive,
Closing off the static, mindless chatter,
When I decide to figure out
What it is I cherish, save
My flesh and blood,
It does come down to
Home.
Now, define it in your private
Heart, your own solitary gaze towards
Where you formed. Strip away the
Years, go home, and birth again from
Your decent ground of being,
The one you recognize when you see
A familiar line of sky,
Glimpsed above some treetops,
Your city block,
Your early sunrise in a
Neighborhood that sleeps,
Your prairie, mountains, buttes,
Your rivers,
Trusting without knowing
That you're home for
All of us, for all of them, for
A nanosecond, maybe less, so
Make it rich, verdant, fertile, fertile
Dirt enough to carry blooming
Into all that we don't know.
The rain. It should be snowing now,
Snowing on December's verge,
But at my age, I don't
Have much time
Left for the art of
Making bargains.
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