Poem: Magic to be Found

West Pawlet Barn RT_resize
Magic to be Found

A short walk in the morning.
It is bright and the sun has not yet risen
high enough to bleach out the colors.

This is about as far as you travel these days,
as far as your old legs and breath will carry you.
You have turned inward, discovered new blessings,
small once, but no less important
than the discoveries of travel.

You have new routines, and while you miss the old ones,
the habits built over years of wandering,
there are glories nearby, and within,
magic to be found

About this poem. 

Quarantine has robbed us of much. But it has helped us (or me at least) discover much as well. As my world has shrunk, it has grown.

The picture was taken a mile or two down the road from where I live in West Pawlet.


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