Home so sweet

 

A poem for Ruth, who kindly shared her farm in the country so we could do some writing for the Army of Ink … and fed us delights from her vege patch … and woke us from our snugly beds with hot tea and toast  …

There was a fine woman who opened a fine house that fed appetites lost from patches laced with weathering sticks, woven by hand and time.    She offered a slice of her welcoming world and a heart rich like the earth she so lovingly engraved.    A home full of sweet delights.   Where black felt bows and creamy cloth wrap around you like a shawl and cocoon the soul so snug.   Where the rush to do, to see, to be, is held effortlessly still by orchard, earth and sky.   And moments seem so endlessly full they linger like a week.   And when it’s time to go, you know you’ve been and never really leave.  For when the mind now wanders far, or night does suddenly fall.    Memories of stars never so bright that cast a dome of wonder over such a rare and precious place – keep friendships fresh and memories forever close.   24.04.09