i dropped to my knees
digging deep for water
and felt the clay take shape beneath my fingers
this place
this is home
so from the dust i sculpted doorways
and windows
and halls
lifted up walls
and made myself a castle out of the sand
now i drink beer at the edge of paradise
and ask the thirsty to come inside
and play in the shade
i never ask them to stay
but neither do i point them towards the door
it's tough work tending to a secret garden- what good is a secret, with no one to whisper it to.