Birthplace
The brook babbles
and rambles
over the rocks,
tumbling down
past the cabin
among the trees
at the foot
of the protecting mountain. Under the watchful eye
of deer
and bear
and chipmunk.
In the intimacy of bedroom
the first desperate cry
of the newborn rises.
Searching with foggy eye exclaiming existence
pondering purpose.
Unaware
the gift of life
paid for
by the giftee
in moment installments.
In far flung decades
returning to birthplace
facing the final portal.
Copyright © Hal Deats | Year Posted 2023
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