I move to paradise, then discover
it’s an insidious fixer-upper.
The light reveals the need for a new tool.
A mutable to-do list seeks to rule
my path. My practice to place my bare feet
demands a pooper-scooper, for the geese
love this luxuriant grass, leave white snakes
that–grounded and mindful–I remove, make
the morning routine a cleaning hour.
Hints of dreams tease. A door slams. I’m locked out
of the sick house where irritable men
blame and shout. What flusters them: pure fear. When
all else fails, they heap their scorn on me, smite
with fury words. Imagine their surprise.
I’m standing in my truth through bluster’s blow.
Earthed, diligent, evolving heart and soul.