Sadly, our time at the place I’ve called Marshland has come to an end. Debbie and I have gone our separate ways. We’ve sold the house, and I will move to a townhouse near here later this week. Our plans for a life together didn’t pan out out as we had hoped.

I miss—and will continue to miss—what might have been. Now it’s time to rethink what will be. As I close this chapter, writing has helped organize my thoughts. The poem below is one of the results.

The idea that was Marshland will remain in mind as I consider new possibilities. I will experience possibility the way each of us realizes the future, collapsing probabilities into a reality one choice at a time. My reality, someday, will be a New Marshland. I’ll write to my friends from there, as well as from points along the way. Maybe I’ll see some of you as I travel, or hear from you as you make your own way. Until then, take care. I’ll do the same.

Moving

I’ve found the keys and locked the doors,
left a note saying this is yours.
Take care of it; of course you will.
I see dust in air grown still.
This house was once my home.

The kids are grown, or mostly so.
It’s as good as any time to go.
Let me have a look at all the trees,
the grass and flowers, even weeds,
and one last drink of water from the well.

At my new place, I’ll entertain—
invite the moon, though out of phase.
Will my guests know how they should behave?
Lake and stream might look the same;
the sea will feel confused.

Slow and easy, I’ll walk the shore,
waking with the day once more.
Find a shark’s tooth or a shell;
Think of someone, wish her well.
Sun and shadows bracket waves.