There is a self-contained serenity about the houses,
driveways, sidewalks and streets.
School has just released, children bundle home
on this mist filled day in autumn. The door flies open,
voices live and raucous fill every crack,
bring this mundane afternoon to life.

As I close my book, put down my pen,
there is the familiar rush, the pull of opposing forces ā€“
what I am, what I would be otherwise.

A smell inhabits the room, takes me to a place,
a depth I have measured,
where the buoyancy of salt is best, and most often felt.
Yes this is what lifts me
as I bend to sweep leaves, boot prints, water,
taking in the aroma of the life I have chosen.