Days Like These

A poem to the mess and the beauty of moving

Days like these are when I crave a return to home,

when sun up and sun down are spacious times,

dinner cooked at home,

cats fed on time,

a flow state slow, steady, unhurried.

Days like these are unnatural and yet we are champions together in them.

early mornings and late nights,

masters with tape measures and plan B’s,

slashing to-do lists while new ones of in-process projects grow.

Days like these we’re at the mercy of the elements,

mud, rain and gale force winds slow us in the ways we don’t want to be,

but these are the signs,

this is when we know,

that baby it’s moving time

so let’s cross over to the other side.

Days like these the end line is an optical illusion,

in the in-between,

where neither house feels like home

yet,

the old more like an uninhabited shell

than the space that once so warmly hosted beyond its capacity.

Story lives in these walls where it doesn’t in the others

yet,

but will.

But a magic moment, like the two of us hanging laundry in the moonlight,

because there’s no other time,

you pinning my undies on the line and I your socks,

days like these I think to myself,

well isn’t this sweet.

          

          — to moving