The old horse barn,
the corner of brook and river.
The smell of evergreen,
takes me down the road.
Home, cold, soft light,
the places where a soul sings.
With gorbie, raccoon bandits,
spring waters, undisturbed.
The sound of the river
washing all concern away.
The cold snap, morning
light, breakfast cooking.
Soft feathers on face,
baths in metal tubs.
The comfort of place,
which sings into being, me.
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