Here a Home

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Cupped and cradled by mountains, a valley lies.

Above, vapor sliced to alien form is pushed along the wide blue by desert winds—

counterpoint to still, starry nights.

Ants but no antelopes, sand with no beach.

To some wanderers, it is a signpost on the way to somewhere else; but

to some wanderers, the stopping becomes a living,

the temporary becomes a home.

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About apronheadlilly

wife and mother, musician, composer / poet, teacher, and observer of the world, flawed Christ-follower
This entry was posted in Photography, Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to Here a Home

  1. Mike says:

    “The stopping becomes a living.” Nice.
    Josey Wales told a bounty hunter there was still time to walk out. The bounty hunter replies he has to make a living. Josey tells him “dying ain’t much of a living, boy.”

    • Interesting quote. 🙂
      As far as the stopping goes: We only planned to stop here for a couple of years, 5 at the most. We were planning to make a profit on the house and then head back east. The bubble burst in housing in the early ’90s, and I woke up about 20 years later and finally thought, “I think I live here.”

  2. dorannrule says:

    Your heart is there where you landed, much like that handsome cactus who found a home and stuck with it. 🙂

  3. reinkat says:

    I like this post a lot. You never know where life will take you–whether it is a home, a career, or anything else. Everyday a surprise filled with blessings.

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