Home

When time makes its long song the garden’s many-colored children are born beneath a fragile shelter of leaves.

In a sunny bed of fragrant earth the garden makes love.

Side by side, top and below, each of us lives in our own separate time and space. And yet we all belong to the same building, our lives touching however briefly and faintly.

I can be anything
any person
anywhere
if I just have my book and chair.

Home is what you take away each time you leave the house.