An Ode to Dwelling
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I wake up to the sun burning through the dream
That fogs the land this morning
And the wind breathes easy
Out the door, I head to the stream
Where our young girls like to laugh, chase, and tease
The ravens make their way south over land of plenty
Autumn brushes this meadow gently
Awakened from the summer dream, the land shakes the leaves
And the raven flies to land and folk that my eyes will never see
My heart beats with this dwelling
Not one thought lies beyond the hedge
For all want and need bloom within these
Naturally
Though what blooms may rot
Must be culled or depart
To mend the land's heart
Now the time has come to reap for the gathering
And thus the raven flies to land and folk that my eyes will never see
My heart beats with this dwelling