getting beyond Narcissus

 to window into nature

I love the outside,

I want any room I'm in

to window into nature,

something there is in me

that doesn't love a wall,

I want plant and bird and vista

to draw me out of myself,

just to be within me has the prison about it,

a room can be a box that limits who we are

by showing us our reflection in mirrors 

and in the things we possess,

a favorite spot is the screened-in porch

at our "cabin" in the Smokies,

a creek runs and drops just outside

encased within a copse of dark-green rhododendron

and a bit of laurel and dog hobble,

sycamore, oak, poplar and buckeye

keep company with the strong presence of a beech tree,

occasionally pileated woodpecker visit, as do kingfishers,

one year recently a great blue heron fished 

and graced the creek for a season,

black bears often walk through or dip in the creek,

unlike our neighbor, we have hardware cloth insead of wood

on the first two and a half feet from the floor,

we prefer to see outside,

rather than feel the safety of being enclosed, 

of being private,

I like a roof and to be dry,

I like a house so I can be warm in winter and cool in summer,

yet to me a house is best when it allows body and spirit

to range the natural world,

a meditation I like cautions us:

"in their dwelling they love he earth."

by Henry H. Walker

March 26, ‘24