The Pleasures of Home

It's easy to forget just how lovely home is when you spend most of the day working and getting to work. Sometimes, just being in your home without meaning to do much else is the best thing you can do. In Oz, Dorothy knew what she was doing when she clicked those ruby-red slippers.

My freshmen and I freely wrote odes yesterday in imitation of Neruda's odes to common things. In about sixteen minutes, I penned

Ode to My Deck

Like a prow
my deck
rides
above grass,
parts
black walnut
trees lapping
shore of forest.
On a wave
of leaf
I captain
cat
bird
deer
possum
even raccoon
from a wheel
house
fitted
with zinnia
and basil,
my zero-
gravity
chair
buoyed
by change
bells
ringing
across a sea
of campus.
O, deck,
on your humble
pine planks,
pocked
and picked
by titmouse
beaks
cracking
seed
from shell,
let me
ride
the wing
of goldfinches.
the hearts
of humming
birds,
and the red
head
of woodpecker
anchoring
the grounded
feeder.
O, deck,
on you
I sail
lifted
like the flag
of deer tail
waving
me
into darkness.