I think it quite strange living here, walled by this house
when I was wilder than now, I lived in nature
stalking birds and pollen laden, blooming things
always my toes in sands or hot footed in summer
I was in love with the sky, no matter the weather
in storms I hid beneath branching cedars
sleeping on mossy pillows, in the woods of my backyard
I never gave much thought to houses then, I only went there
to sleep or eat and waited to leave again
waited for an inkling of sun to warm the cold grass
spent days climbing trees, red plums and cherries
I imagined that’s how life would always be,
living outdoors under the sun or clouds
wet with rain, always picking flowers.