My friends are downsizing --- selling their large homes and moving into smaller cottages and condominiums. About six different ones have done this over the last three years, friends from grade school, high school, and college, and more. One particularly close friend is downsizing in preparation for such a move right now. It's unnerving to me; I blindly think that everyone and everything will stay the same.
I just spent an hour looking for some photos I have of these various places, but I can't find them in the vast storage space of my files.
I hope to return to the task. But for now, just some poems and pictures:
Say
instead it was an evening in head-high
bracken with its smell of dark and medicine.
Thinking green of the infecting
fern
where you
may crouch and not be known,
lodging your feet for good amid the stalks.
A bower is a dwelling place or once it was
a cage
for pent-up singing birds.
Look down to see the warp and weft of root.
All the world is in these
clutches.
Look up
to clock the fern’s drab underneath
blotched with spores you mustn’t breathe.
Breathe in deep. There’s nowhere else to live.
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