Home, my home the clouds overpass
below the days and breaths full last
through bears and skies and harvest bowls
the wheat and rock drift slow and fast
those sifting days these spilling moons
the heavy nights and golden noons
of all the yesterdays I had
I’ve left long since and far too soon.
Bent: the foothills, eyes: the line,
stars arcing over lake and pine-
master map rolls deep but wide:
milestones, bedrocks, prairie tides.
East of rockies, west of the world,
I will stack my trees and light my hearth
where the first of all my years unfurled
and rest me here when I’m back to earth.
(Image: via red-lipstick: Jem Magbanua (Singapore) - Nocturnus, 2013 Watercolors, Pencils on Paper)
(Source: flickr.com, via littlebitsoflace)