At Davisville, New Hampshire

Here is the place I have found,
of fertile earth between tumbled stone.

Where old men lean thick arms
upon the tails of pick-ups,
on Autumn mornings and others,
and settle the matters of a day.

Where water spills from mountains,
over and down between hills.
and breaths, on winter nights
are seized by the gelid air.

Where the firmament
and all of its tiny lights,
lie upon the reach of treetops.

Where we can be with our aloneness,
at rest with its bottomless still,
and inhabit the life which inhabits us.

Daniel Thomas Moran