I drag solitude with me everywhere
like a toddler trailing a blanky,
its fabric heavy with briars, seed husks
and longing,
drenched in pine must, leaf mud
and wish
but draped over and around me
it lifts, lightens, breathes
like the mist of cirrus clouds
and becomes my hearth and haven
cradling within
tiny silences -
the pulse of pine sap and worm crawl
the wistful weep of nestlings
the warble of sunlight on water
and I find I am home blissful.
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Thanks for writing!
Jacqueline