the furniture
slowly disappears
and art from the walls,
once meticulous order
descends
into chaos
only moving can achieve

family,  comes
and goes
taking plunder
long agreed upon
releasing dusty memories

trees planted
by younger arms
now tower
above the house
once exposed,
surrounded by
grass and sage

our home
as ever
stands, looking out
across the valley…
endless sunsets
and the milky way.

parceled reality
no longer denied.
rocks and oaks,
nesting hawks,
trail down
to catch the bus
gone
faded into memories
only we will have

our house
for three and forty years
all alone, rooted
on this hill,
a neighbor now
intrudes
upon our silence.

wind that always blows
shared with people
who cannot know
the wild it once was