Poem from a day with Tess
After a strange half - year I’m out , in late Decembe r Talking about it A n d if not solid reality is touchable Soft but firming slow I know that bird and this pond side nook Kind familiar untethered , here, But admit I can’t live in the city It feels like a traitorous thing Born, loved, and mothered of someplace To scheme your de-rooting for new soilscapes Still seated with a sweet friend from home .