Here
Jumper-warm and soft
I mould and move.
But out there
Is powder of snow and dust
Where
The sky and ground are one
And I am a pole
Where a mist might seep
From a sponge of grey
Wooden
Like a chestnut
The shell stops me
Breaking like them
Out in the cold
Hills
Where light is
Only a glow that
Growls from behind
A frosty glass cloud
Call
“Who is here?”
And hear
A smooth wind
Interrupted by falling snow
Me
Alone and safe
Away from cold
But away from them
Not always lonely
To
The room I am only
A visitor
Who overstayed
His unannounced welcome
Sleep
Now is dark
But warm
A place of me
And now, only me
Again
I bow and nod
I am still feeling
And wooden hills
Invite me again
Like a child coming home
