The night was restless, ,
4 am and butterfly thoughts are flitting about,
With no two resolving together; not one complete.
Am I home, or am I not?
On a quiet overcast day, after 4 months away,
I am rolling blurry and red-eyed
Through the small town
We called home for almost thirty years;
Reacquainting with familiar routes,
The sights, the stops, the trails, the bird sounds;
All return quite easily and meaningfully.
At least half a year would need to be spent here
For the rest of my days… I am a New Englander.
I find myself at my old coffee stop
That sits halfway on my 12 mile trip to my old job;
Before all the “stuff” began 3 long years ago.
But, in another sense, it seems only yesterday
That we were dreaming and planning.
How many life changes and life times
Did we encounter and muddle through?
Spring greens are shifting into darker summer greens;
Trees and plants are drinking yesterday’s deep rains;
Robins are feasting on waterlogged worms;
I am sipping on memory at a park used before for respite.
We did ok, you and I…
You facing Death… me facing Life.
I’ve decided to pick up some color;
Some annuals to place around the back deck,
Some containers with tomatoes and basil;
Like I used to always say every summer,
“There’s only two things money can’t buy…
True love and home-grown tomatoes.”
Like the old days,
When we sat outside and admired our flowers;
Let me remember the quieter, less stressful, times.
6-16-2015 (Wrentham, MA)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem