The Gate

many roads converged
today, crossed and re-
crossed as we moved from
A to B, C to D,
forded the estuary
and headed for home -

new sights and sounds are
always welcome
but, tired, replete,
it is nice to
reach one's gate

with no further plans
or schemes in hand;
to sit and be quiet,
re-gather is the thing

and less swallowing

previous poem

next poem