Oh...how I long to go home
where the crickets sing me
and the sweetgrass in Praries
smells freshly cut
barns weather on
and I feel the sun upon my skin
and autumn crisp apple air...
leaves me drunken
crystalline formations dance on the windows in a deeply frozen nest
and long burning logs rage
as patterned snowflakes dance outside
a fire of comfortable blanketed walls burns as
spring birds call me back

where faded country music plays
a sad and aesthetically pleasing tune
the smells of generations cooking
I am invited in ...
to dream
dancing on Daddy's boots
in the living room

I dream of a love-strong home
where you can be high and deep
tough and sinewy like the thread
holding us together
weaved by my Native American Grandmother

So sweet and energizing
a place of refuge from waning storms
Where I can be
the person
that I promised myself I could be

as I cook a gourmet meal
from fresh and simple ingredients
I use my senses to taste in my mind
then with my mouth
creating masterpieces
with a magical gift , handed down
of composition
sipping a glass of perfectly chosen wine
and palate cleansing fresh sorbet
a calm, appreciative natural high

Oh, how I adore the tender
domestic bliss
feeding roots
cherishing moments
lavishly on tight purse strings
making MAGIC in hearts
and in my kitchen
poetic recipes for life...
bread from necessity
inked in a passed down book called
....HOME.