Saturday, November 5, 2011

Nomad

Unexpected, now accepted
we are moving again.
Back to the town we came
from, back to a country home.

We’ll live in a white shingled
house now, black shutters with
a wrap-around porch. Home
will be open, inviting,

a full yard leads into
the woods.  There’s a fire-pit
for roasting marshmallows,
a patio with two seating groups.

Lush oaks tower over the grounds.
There’s a magnolia, palm trees,
lush plants.  They all give it a scenic view.
Theres a garage for him to tinker in

a studio to keep my paints.  But I
I didn’t expect to move again.
We’ve moved so many times.
This one should be the last.
At least, it seems like that now.

6 comments:

Ann said...

I envy your porch, Judy, but then we know that isn't what makes a home. That comes for your great heart and Bill's. May this be the home of your dreams.

Shersim said...

This home sounds so welcoming and so ready for the people who love you to visit. An open-armed home with a porch to catch the fresh breezes of the day. I sense a great deal of satisfaction in this poem.

Mary said...

Interesting that you are going back to the town you came from. Roots sometimes run deep, and you CAN go home again. The setting sounds lovely indeed. And nice to have a studio for your paints too.

Peggy said...

Love the sneak preview of your new home. I have come to expect you to keep moving -- but this sounds very much like the last house so I hope it is a place you can settle again. At least you are not afraid to correct a move that did not suit you!!

Willow said...

I can picture white shingles and black shutter, a wrap-around porch, open, yard to the woods, lush plants, scenic view and to top it off, a garage for Bill, a studio for you. Sounds perfect. Can't wait for photos, though you painted one perfectly with words.

Jack said...

I love the title for its pairing with this in particular:

"This one should be the last.
At least, it seems like that now."