Tethered

There is another rite of passage to record
in the history of this old camp on the bluff.
One of her caretakers is gone.

One of the souls whom she sheltered as a young man
and who grew up to repair her porches
whitewash her clapboard
put the cleverness of his new designs onto the sturdiness of her old bones
open her up each summer and batten her down for all those seasons.

One who introduced her to his children one by one
and then carried their children up the hill
to greet her with that special twinkle in his eye.

One who breathed his large, generous and meaningful life
into every corner of the place
and then settled on the quietly elegant and simple bits
to record with his creative hand.

One who showed no restraint
in insisting on gently closing her screen doors
lining up her white stones
keeping her lawn mowed… and her neighbors happy.

One who kept her from falling off the edge of the planet
and engineered her to safety, twice.

One who knew that the true value of keeping watch
was the gift of homecoming.

A caretaker whose spirit will forever
to this house
be tethered.

…for Paul