Walking Our Small Paradise

The wind carries great white cloud ships
across the vast blue sky dome
as we walk through buffeting gusts,
rejoicing we are alive, we are moving
among the hills and valleys of our small paradise—

This house, this road that winds away from it,
the roadside creek burbling with snowmelt
and rain water as we turn at the tractor road
to hear four honking geese.  Just in time, we

glance round to see them curve above the pond,
lift their feet against their bellies,
and splashing, land.


  1. I can visualize your yard and the road and the house, and somehow it is comforting to know you and Jay still walk it over 35 years from when I first saw it. That continuity — at least in my life experience, with friends I have made who have moved across town and across country — is rare.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you Sharon. I do feel blessed that we’ve been walking the same road so many years and still find it endlessly interesting and wonderful. Saw and heard a flock of redwings yesterday–first for the spring, and the ground’s still mostly covered with the last snowfall, though it’s sinking quickly.


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