some of the golden flecks on the formica countertops have been
wiped away with age.
the vegetable bins in the fridge are held together with
medical tape.
if someone wants to take a shower, the kitchen faucet is
off limits.
the house heaves just a bit in the wild winds coming up the valley.
the living spaces are awkward.
the denim sofa has faded to a pale grey.
but the view is amazing and the lure
is irresistible to friends and family, both.
wherever i am in the world, whatever i am doing,
i have a longing,
and such a sense of place
for these 16 acres.
i think i am a homing pigeon.
(please, don't anyone tell henry.
there could be trouble).
there could be trouble).
ha ha
ReplyDeletebut I understand this longing for place
among other things
This made my heart ache a little, but then at the end you made me smile. This photo poem is perfect. It really moved me.
ReplyDeleteVERT MONT.
ReplyDeleteOh my gosh!
What a beautiful post.
ReplyDeleteIt sounds absolutely perfect and so beautifully described.
ReplyDeleteAnd I won't tell Henry!