A Good Year Wrought

There is a place where the tantrum of

The 10,000 Moments and

The 10,000 Things collide.  

There is a home there,

one we’ve always known

not by its simple jointing (no nails) or

rough hewn cedar joists,

but by the feeling inside of it. 

It’s the place where the noises

are already filled with silence; it’s where,

even when everyone’s gone, we leave

the lights on anyways, because

every path that crosses once,

crosses twice.