Monday, June 13, 2011

The Serendipity Gypsy Hotel

Is an inexpensive tent
Camped for the moment

In high grass and cottonwoods
Beside a stream near flood

And chortling with flushed bravado
Through high-desert sagebrush Nevada.

Not far off, great trucks drag ore from mines,
Churning peaks to dust, but here feels fine,

Here in this small green find, unguarded, leisurely
Echo of the first garden's luxury,

And we bunk down, the three of us,
Hoping for a little rest

In our looping long migration
Free from any fixed destination

As lost and found as anyone
Who dared to leave that first garden alone,

Giving up attachment to the allowed, safe and peaceful
To sample these fruits of the knowledge of strange woods and travel.

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