It doesn’t have the romance of an old wood stove,
or a beautiful mantel and hearth,
but this furnace holds true to it’s purpose
on a dreary afternoon…
As whole limbs fall from the trees,
and hail bounces off the road when it hits,
and rain pounds the earth in an encore
of late winter rather than spring;
the tops of the cedars disappear
into the smoky gray cloud
that passes over this hilltop
,and the animals huddle next to me
for the wisdom of warmth and comfort…
At a time
that all I want is to be held
or maybe just not to feel so alone,
but want isn’t the same as need
and here, on the precipice
of sleep and loneliness,
I hope that my dreams will show me
what I truly need
as my heart speaks more clearly in dreams,
While the mind speaks riddles of desire…
My heart shows me
what I am afraid to see
in the undisciplined walking slumber
of a day off from my usual routine,
for the healing
of body and spirit
as I recognize the elements
that create that intangible place
in the heart
called Home.


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