Later in life, I’ve found
there are many kinds of shelter,
many ways we lean upon each other,
many structures that give us what we need
(fairy tale castles, after all,
being hard to come by,
and within, beset by drafts and rodents,
picture perfect cottages proved lacking
in dimension)
I have a lean-to in a corner of my mind
that’s made of nothing, as far as I can tell,
except my love,
I have a fire
that delights me every time
I find it still burning,
its cheering flames
produced by time with friends
I have a sense that after
all my fumbling efforts at this life,
the shelters lost, or casually abandoned,
I’ll come to find that nothing mattered,
and everything did,
that shelter resides
in any circle of support,
and they are numerous
as crystals on the shore.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 28, 2016
