Who knew everything would turn out so bossy ?
I’ve hardly walked in the door
When everything raises up
Comes tumbling to compete
Each voice loud:
Wash me up
Throw me out
Pick me up
And put my lid on.
Even the garden can’t keep its mouth shut.
If I’d wanted this I’d have had children
Or more parents.
I sit.
Day hangs in the balance
Balance tips and
We slide into evening.
Amid the clamour
The soul pulls out a picture
It’s of a tiny place north of here
Made of wood and along from anything
Here she says we can be free.
You me and your dog.
Here she says the three of us will lie on sheepskin
Take our turn to tend the fire
And when we’re quiet
We’ll hear the song of wolves and wind.
Of wind and wolves.
And that soaring will be our song.
And together we will sing.

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