I Live in My Winter
Removed from the junipers’
fragrance, separated from
prickly pears gracing
the hill, limestone slabs
jutting from thin soil,
and smoke drifting from
a well laid fire on a cold
night. Old, today, I
call the clouds my
birthright, want only
to merge with them
and rain through
another black coffee
in this unfamiliar place,
this new home,
this welcome peace.
O at the Edges 
Wow!
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Thanks very much!
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Brilliant! Love the lines “Old, today, I / call the clouds my / birthright”
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Thanks very much. The last few years have been difficult at times, but I am grateful to be where I am.
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