I find myself wishing
For simplicity
And wishing
For all the minutia
The little rules that don’t matter
The bounds we have chosen to place
For no reason other than
The comfort of rulers

To go away
And leave me
In peace

That I might walk the paths trodden
And untrodden
That I might hear the stories known
And unknown
That I might learn the truths spoken
And unspoken
That I might see the sights seen
And unseen

This is my wish

Let me sit in the quiet
Without a question or demand
From the world outside
Without the leading and needling
Toward things I do not need
For I need no more
Than what I already have

As I sit surrounded
Amidst wood planks
Crackled pages
Chipping paint
Tall trees

I wonder what stories they have seen
What lives they have witnessed
All before my time

Quiet do the leaves fall
Soft comes the snow
Breathless does the grey come
And hide away the sun

And though the winter’s quiet
Is deafening
It is not nearly so much
As the resounding orchestra

Of spring

I see sunlight peek through
The grey
Puncture the drear

I set down my pen
And finish my water
And don my shoes
And open the door

Yet when I run toward that sunlight
It is gone

Having awaited me while I
Set down my pen
Finished my water
Donned my shoes
Opened the door

It left, saddened at my absence