It is raining
A small puddle
Forms at my
Feet bubbles born
By drops like
Rising bread loaves
From mother’s oven
I imagine a
Marsh with frogs
Leaping as I
Listen to the
Tiny tat tat
Tat of raindrops
And see the
Water collecting on
Grass like a
Thousand distant galaxies
I am nothing
Nothing but free
The world my
Canvas and I
The pallet splashing
Colors and creating
Everything a new
A dab of
This and some
Of that a few
Wheres and a
Number of whos
But at once
A masterpiece called
Me
For so long
I left to
Leave leave things
And people behind
Pain and problems
Unable to bury
Burn or ignore
I turned away
Running somewhere else
I found a
Wayside a respite
A place to
Mend and recover
Now strong again
And happy still
I’ve realized that
This isn’t home
But a refuge
Now absent of
Blunder denial or
Mistakes I set
My eye on
Somewhere new somewhere
That calls me
Calls me home
I know now
That my time
In Charlotte is
But a resting
Place soon my
Wings will carry
Me to my
Spiritual place somewhere
In the high
Deserts of New
Mexico where I
Will finally roost
And make peace
With my Gods
The sky is
Calling me like
Migrating birds I
Think that it’s
Time to go
The where isn’t
Important to me
Now it’s the
Whom to take
Roost in the
Arms of friends
There my heart
Will finally sing
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 