Revisiting

sanctuary of my young adulthood I weep in front of my former home a student cottage, a secret life set in a steep hillside it is still beautiful but empty and neglected shake shingles replaced by lincoln log siding horrible I walk around and peer into the room where I would study wall of french doors out onto wooded acres now a state park I can hear ghost echos of the dog barking far up in the woods come back... and my infant son warbling as I rocked him with my foot studying late into the night great love in that home, great long sleeps and lazy winter storms as I discovered myself my sons father would join me at my pleasure we were not ready yet still a work in progress and my son a child of greatest love our beginning.