As the season changes, a reminder of what we left behind in the Berkshires where all  roads led to Great Barrington.

some nights are like this

you look out into the darkness

and it makes itself at home.

a glass of burgundy, leftover candles

permeating the air with lavender,

a subtle overwhelming nostalgia

for having passed this way

the window on this world is made of lace

from which you do not hide behind

but view this space, and well beyond,

with gratitude and grace

what you see so clearly now

reflects back on you that which

you have made your own,

the in-between of sunrises and sunsets

the experience of waking dreams

this place, this space of transitory occupancy

already a memory, complete with worn out habits,

is like the comfort of an old threadbare coat

you don’t want to let go of,

holding on tight to what you know

yet the unknown,

beyond the view of the window

beckons, the darkness whispers goodnight,

dawn awaits in a warm wrap of light

new beginnings, new possibility

you rest in the moment and reminisce,

for in a present knowing,

every living cell within you

carries the physical recollection

of your being here in a special place,

the space between the thought

of how it came to be

and how beautiful it was

all roads lead to this

where memories of the mind

have come to rest

you see a path never before taken

that does not lead away

nor does it harbinger a yearning to stay.

here is a place you have lived, loved

and left behind a number of times.

 it’s not often you are given the opportunity

to step back and revisit a path chosen,

rewrite a scene that has no end to a beginning

a move forgiven, an opening encounter maybe,

with a second chance

leaving it up to God to ask for the next dance

your window on this world

is as it seems,

for all you have envisioned

has come true

for what you see in you

light entered here

and here butterflies were born

a child found his way home

words flowed freely, easily,

although, as wit would have it

with a price to pay

for here became a stop along the way

and yet another window waits

upon another day