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Linda Caldwell

LOOK SOFTLY IT IS MY HOME

I drive down this road nestled in the hollow
slowly today
the road that I travel to home
usually I give the landscape only an accepting glance
because its mine
indelible
with eyes closed
far away I see it still
because it is my home
slowly I look through your eyes
but it is still beautiful
because it is spring
the rain has fallen here
softly drying on the pavement
where we were only an hour ago
it was dry
I tell you
“look softly because it is my home”

when I arose this morning
with my feverish dreams still clinging
(you were there of course)
the mist had collected on the curve of the hill
like a skim of milk
milked diagonally into a bowl
the cows still lay in the watery sweet grass
in dim silhouettes
your eyes were in my head
lately I look at everything with them
valuing judging
and then discarding
because it is too beautiful for their pity

Posted by John Dofflemyer on December 10, 2005 3:01 PM |

Comments

This poem speaks to me and I'm sure to many others as well. Even as a child I would look at home through a stranger's eyes. Well written and heart touching, your poem is worthy of any publication. Sandi

Posted by: Sandi Keaton-Wilson | February 8, 2006 1:12 PM

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