Here

Where would I rather be
than here
among my tools
and four-legged friends
surrounded by books
and drawings
in double mats and
flat black frames.

I’ve got twenty more years
by my count
to write more words
and pass on some things
I’ve learned along the way.

Beyond my rooms
the street
and my favorite stops.
The café, coffee house, post office,
and the bank where they call
me by my first name.

It’s all within a few steps,
the mountain panorama
the orange sky in the morning
the winter coat on my retriever,
the loving dark eyes
and white muzzle of my oldest dog.

In the naked branches of the tree
there are always young birds
bouncing in the branches
waiting to sneak a drink at my dog’s pail.

In the yard, winter grass
moss
hints of early buds and
the rich, dark soil waiting for seed.

Sorry if I don’t always pay attention
to your calls or mail
or accept your invitations to
a party or a celebration.
Sorry, I’m so content here
among my tools
and four-legged friends
and books
and my drawings
in double mats and
flat black frames.

[Special thanks to Billy Collins
for showing the way. January, 2010.]