Salt and Pepper

From the moment I noticed

( it was in a fourth grade geography book) 

there was another landscape outside my own 

small windowpane, 

the plan was to throw on a pair of shoes

escape to the mountains,

to Canada,

to California , 

anywhere, 

 and everywhere; 

just the thought of the going

sent me to a place in my head where

my breath mingled with holier shadows

than the ones I could see.

I lost the thread one day,

and the plan changed with a kiss,

a kiss that kept me rooted, 

a gravity that pulled me toward bread-baking

and salting the earth 

(with daughters)

the shoes still sit at the front door 

burning me with desire 

to wander the walking road –

just go.

I try to put on the hiking boots, 

and discover they are nailed to the floor

by two small boys

playing with their grandfather’s tools.

Pepper holds me.

**

©2013 Wabi Sabi

For Sunday Whirl ‘ Wordle #120’

For Poets United ‘poetry pantry’