I suspect each one of us
have our own windows on the world
that would be our world
the one we pour ourselves into

three come to my mind at once
first being,
when my feet hit the floor
after a night of rest

Three quick steps to the window
looking across the driveway
where grandpa and I ran footraces
where I rode a pony, and then a bicycle
then drove an old car, back and forth
I’m checking the little world
where I live, where I farm

That view is loaded with memories
snapshots of people and machines and cattle
of putting hay up into the barn
and butchering days with neighbors
I see little faces, our kids,
smiling and laughing
and swimming in the horse tank
where the cattle used to slurp noisily

The second window’s in the kitchen
same view but from ground level
it looks different somehow
Here grandma stood, looked and commented,
somehow mom is missing
but from here my wife commanded
the house her castle, the farm she embraced
her hands on every surface
her arms around us all

The third window is in my shop
all seasons I spent there
designing, building, repairing, maintaining
and in the winter, by the wood stove
settin’ with a fella, or fellas,
solving the world’s problems
well, analyzing and discussing anyhow!

Here the windows are looking out,
not in
From here we travel far
nearly the ends of earth
and nearly around the globe
oh, so precious
to come home
to the farm

Here I was conceived
Here I lived my first days and years
and here we settled in
the farm
our centennial farm
we own as tenants

It is good

Selah, Lin January 2015