Goodbye Innisfree

To dream of a place Where I can be. Four doors and four walls Are all that I need. An Island with trees on A friend to each season A home who would love me like wind. I'd split a tree And build breakfasts in spring Raising a cabin from earth and cut reeds Eggs and smoked bacon and hands round hot tea Dew wet in pollentops, sewing bright seeds. I'd dig a well And pack lunches in summer Guarding the garden by light of warm moons Strawberries, cream sauce, beer and fried mussels Adventures in woodshades, and haze on dark dunes. I'd weave warm clothes An do dinner in autumn Harvest brown beans as the green skies blow thin Dark stews with mushrooms, blackberries and sloes Shortening days, I store piles of dead things. I'd make a bed And sleep for the winter Wind wrecks my made things as days disappear Dreaming of puddings as my cabin's tested Shooting a bird, my last meal of the year.