in the morning

or maybe after dinner

i walk up and down   up and down

the lane before our house

~

if i want to stretch my wings

i drive into the sangres   

park and walk

neither town nor country satisfies

~

i miss the vineyard

despite the smoke and haze

the tainted grapes

the lost year   soon to be two years

~

i miss the evenings spent on the patio

listening to leaves stir

listening to colin's grandfather's voice

rumble like a distant storm

~

we all miss something   someone

these are unnerving times

i walk and think   i always have   

in that sense   nothing has changed