As It Was

Living must be

A constant cleaning of the crimes in the outermost corners of outbuildings on the back forty of whatever land we’re fortunate to shepherd

A diligent organizing of each and every backshelf, closet, drawer, and centerpiece of these blessed bodies of truth we call Home Sweet Home

An earnest sweeping of matter that ultimately, doesn’t matter, but made its way to the front stoop and attempted to exert squatter’s rights

An eventual Welcome sign placed humbly, breathlessly, on each door we’re otherwise prone to leave sealed up tight, that we would embrace again

Creation must be

Myth Until Then

When in my next life
To be caused to know
What led the learned
Head tilted to wonder

For

The curve of your forearms
The ness of your sinew
The steady of gait despite your bumps and stripes
The all of your being I believe it must be

A most curious creature