out in the woods
without your bowler hat or glasses
how will you find your way home?
Cousin It
The Road Home
etched in memory
our tracks in the snow
the hug of each curve
Dream Of A Memory
I call the old place
Nana answers and says
I’m waiting dinner for you dearie
Water Lily Leaving
dissolving into
the primordial soup
that is home to the beginning
Spectacle Of The New Day
morning rose
the sky
in full bloom
Always Thinking Of Others
the tree’s
last gift is to home
the lichen and fungi
Azalea’s House
her gorgeous bloom
an invitation
for admiration
How Can It Be
the tree
I’ve only seen from afar
can feel like home
A Home
in the protection of decay
the more humble
the more precious
Tucked Away
in the stillness
and the quiet
we begin again
A Long Way From Home
deep in the forest
in the dark and the silence
a coral reef grew
Home Sprouts
from the nourishing earth
a village
of tiny homes
Trio Of Pairs
sunshine clapboards and goldenrod
pink hibiscus and joe pye weed
shingled roofs with pine needles and clean
Come In
at the front door
flowers will
greet your feet
Through The Darkness
the world awaited us
growing and blooming
summoning us back home
Recluse in ClapBoard
shy yellow house
her sun blinded window eyes
squinting through the blooms
Home
is a hole
perfectly round
made in the ground
We Gather Near The Hearth As
tiny flakes
of a big snow
fall on our little house
New Purpose
the crabapple gone
but still she serves
welcoming us home
Small Dog Big World
the place between
the call of the wild
and being called home
How The House Homesteads
the garden feeding us
laundry on the line
so many kinds of shelter
House Wren On The Garden Rail
where to stay?
when all the world
is home
The Nest
woven with care
so fledging feet
will remember softness
Marsh In The Rain
the welcome home
as water
receives water
Directions Home
at the fence end
the birdhouse’s front yard
a round of iris pods
Guidepost
your presence
lets me know
I am home
Railroad
black tracks
cutting through the cold
heading home
No One To Ask But The Fog And The Snow
will the curve
in the road
lead us back home?
Aparctias
the north wind
singing in the grass
calling winter home
Nana’s Dooryard Garden
her welcome
always joyous
and abundant