This is sanctuary 
a blessed place 
my little corner 
and private cloister
a spot a
dot a cot
where to dream 
rest and play 
a toasting place 
a roasting place 
but mostly now
my coasting place 
where the winds
of my life 
are finally calm

You can make 
so little so
much and so 
much so little 
and tiny things 
big and big 
things tiny and 
then there is 
the quiet middle 
that thin line 
of a lane
where hardly anyone 
ever knows or
ever goes knowing 
not that it’s 
there but where
when it’s found 
becomes one’s den
burrow or home 

In this quiet
dark where dreams 
fade and days
hope awaken like 
snowdrops and early 
spring daffodils I
sit here realizing 
that home has 
finally been found 
funny home this 
I never understood 
for home is
but a frame 
in which the 
art I am 
is displayed perfectly 

And finally after 
several cloudy days 
dawn breaks through 
like slaves freed
from their chains 
and the city
bathes and basks
like a seal
on some float
soaking up warmth 
like soapy sponges 
bobbing about dishwater 
and even mountains 
can be seen 
in the distance 
snow caps smiling 
grinning and greeting 
like people with 
brand new dentures 

Day glows from 
behind the blinds
as ground shakes
and the prairie 
of down comfort
begins to rise 
as the sleeping 
giant begins stretching 
first at feet
then to head
and finally the 
river of arms 
overcome and overtake 
the shore me
making me sea