There are many feelings 

relief unfurls
spreads its arms
stands about gazing
            at familiar things 

everything still where she left it

            only this time
            there is also so much
            more stacked neatly
            but stacked stacked
            stacked
            in boxes and tins
            big and small
            along the wall
            upon the beds 

            all these items
            from her parental home
            awaiting integration
            a new phase
            a sort of re-familiarization
            that will come in time 

The stillness of home is sweet
yet at first requires
re-acquaintance
remember       you like this
            you cherish it 

empty as it first seems
the shell of the house
nourishes like an egg
once she’s found herself
more fully back
more fully in the swing of chores
            sweeping ashes
 a winter morning ritual
            before laying kindling

            running water to fill the kettle
            from her kitchen tap
                                    into her kettle

            the floor cold in sock feet

            the lattice of branches and light
            through the many windows
            the renewed windows!

            the sense that here
                        it’s all her way 

the wind howling outside
highlights the comfortable
tranquility within
the woodstove ticking
now and then
embers glowing
            Fannie whirling silently
yes, she likes all of this

home is a little world
unto itself
the trees stand sentinel
about the house
reliable presences
trimmed of twigs and branches
by blustering gusts 

the woodshed stacked full
and my, the squirrels have been busy
gnawing acorns          shredding shells
covering every stove-lenghth log
in a layer of fragments 

the spiders wonder
what bristles are these
            chasing me down
after months of living unhindered
their filaments fine
woven   suspended
   embroidering &
joining disparate things
filling corners 

the books   the baskets   the brooms
the plants   the pots   the pantry
the cups    the cutlery
the salt cellar
all grown lonely
from lack of attention
and use 

it takes time
to give them their due
appreciate their unstinting service
your reconnections
but it comes
more and more
daily

the house warms
to the life within it
and the floors again
could do with daily sweeping 

Blessedly the snow has come
to cover the grey brown proliferation
of grasses   leaves and twiglets
of brambles and self-satisfied
deep-rooted summer vegetation that gladly
took hold everywhere in her absence
naturally of course
filling in
now
new snowscapes
are drifting in layers
creating fresh white marvels
to please the eye
and record delicate paw prints
in the always dynamic
outside world 

it seems a black squirrel has taken up residence
chasing the grey one that came before
            she wonders whether the red ones
            who chitter and trill so insistently
            are somewhere about
and are those skinny legged
cat or fox prints?
            fox is perhaps wishful thinking
            but she did the other night hear
            the yipping lament
            of coyotes in the distance 

the crows as always
look resplendent perched
with great certainty high
up in trees and when she sees gitpu’s wingspan
far far higher in the sky

w i d e   and  w h e e l i n g

she feels glad to be watched over

in today’s snowstorm
to her surprise
the Widow Wyile witnessed
a wavering V of geese
flapping above her head
crossing the ridge to the next valley
honking and fighting the gusts
in the wintry grey sky
an unusual sight
in late January