Saturday, February 6, 2016

The Right Place (a poem)

The Right Place

I want to live with seasons, all four,
Without too much rain, but plenty of snow,
With a summer hot enough to smell the evergreens while
Berrying in the woods, tending the occasional sport fruit tree, and gathering its gifts.

I want it hot enough for a swim and a lemonade, but not hot enough
To call for air conditioning.
Not dripping damp, yet not too dry,
By the ocean, with a harbor to sail, a beach to walk and storms to watch.

I want wood piled high and starlight reflecting off the snow,
While the stove envelops the house in a comforting blanket of warmth,
Cold nipping my nose and ponds freezing over,
A basket of slippers by the boot tray at the door.

I want a sweater in the morning, with golden light and changing leaves,
Nuts to gather from the ground,
And maple trees.
(OK, that may be too much.)

I want to plant a garden in a cheerful blooming spring,
When seedlings sprout under a cold frame dusted with the last of the snow.
A village on the harbor, with everything one needs,
Close enough to walk or bike or ski, without too many hills.

I want enough tourists to keep things interesting, and a
City just a bit inland, not too far, to house the things
That won’t fit picturesquely in a village.

I would fit in there just fine.



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