Desiderata

I want a dog.

I want to live where the color of summer is green.

I want a quiet dirt road where I can feel the mountains in the air.

Where the spring snows cling to the shadows.

I want a place on this road that will always feel like home.

And in it, a room full of books.

I want to work hard.

But, I will find joy in that labor. To write words that will – in some small way – help. To rake mountains of leaves in the fall and cut wood for the fire that will – on some winter nights – feel like a treasure stolen from the gods.

I want to play.

By this I mean to be in motion. To climb trees and behind their leaves pantomime hide and seek until I am very, very old and very, very gray.

I want the freedom to wander away, to disappear for days on end.

It may not always matter where or when, but simply that I can and, most of all, that I can always, always come home to warm my fingers on a cup of black coffee…

With a dala horse watching from the windowsill.

––

These are my desired things.

That which I will seek until I find.

Everything else is negotiable.

∆∆

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