Painting my porch rail-
Skitter of leaves, sinking sun.
I may leave here soon.
Thinking of going,
Not yet ready to let go;
We do what we must.
Lovely little house,
Refuge in hard times,
Just like an old friend.
Paint, nail, sweep, scrub, pack:
Leave nicer than I found it.
Is this the right choice?
All may come to naught-
Best-laid plans of mice and men.
What should I hope for?
Always hard to change,
Leave behind the home I know.
Still we go forward.
Nights growing colder;
It will be much colder still
Up in the mountains.