#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Leaves, Swamp Ice

I wake up in my bed, my home, my

home town, my birth state, my home

station of news tells, while I lace

dry mudded boots of a country, tossed; 

I fell asleep, anchored in familiar - woke

to boundaries of tiny minds that tightened,

closed all their borders.

I hike familiar landscape, where no borders 

keep the Charles River from spilling over

into Rocky Narrows woods, I want to trust

unguarded landmarks, I keep wondering

along, crossing harmless, bouldered

old walls, how they open into anybody's

marshy meadow.

All photos and text copyright 2017 by Kelly DuMar