A Beach, Lake, And Owl

Sun soaked revelations

on a patio deck.

I had long forgotten

the simple joys

Of returning to origin.

In its bosom,

the well worn comfort

Of familiarity,

combined with the

clear remembrance

Of lake breeze air.

Every milestone,

And accomplishment,

All seen by the unending tide

Of water in motion.

From the eyes of my window:

the first breath of my brother

and the last sight of my cousin.

The first taste of a woman

and my last meeting with her.

All trials,

Tribulations,

And friendships

Have come, gone

and began again

here.

Lonely winter nights,

The ferocity of the wind off the beach

almost too much to bear.

Nowhere to go,

Except the solace of a guitar,

You taught yourself well back then.

My first car,

Driving around in circles,

a "summer town" deserted in the winter,

And a father

Eager to pass this rite to his son.

Later,

Cracks in a marriage,

like holes in a wall,

and a lonely teenager hoping for the best.

Ultimately,

reconciliation.

My first taste of addiction.

Parents out of town,

I wanted to be the "cool kid".

A party remembered,

The stench of cigarettes,

Never

Again

Forgotten.

All within these walls.

Outside,

Clear hot air.

I lay back

And gaze deeply

Into the trunk,

of the tree,

I have seen all

My life.

My great aunt used to tell me

that on the branches,

Of this particular tree

Sits a wise old owl.

He will watch over you

During this life.

To a child

An owl shaped branch,

Can give breath quite easily.

Yet I never truly understood

Her message.

Now

That branch is long since gone,

As is she.

And at times when I need her wisdom

Most

I remember the owl.

Today it is clear to me.

Just as the roots

Of a tree anchor

mighty oak,

My home

Anchors me.

I lay back

In my chair.

Feet up,

exhalation.

I am home,

Rooted once again.