Moving House

Movement requires action. A verb is a tiresome word. But the mind dictates the body, and the mind is a merciless master. Often, I am drawn to ask, "what dictates the mind?" And now, I ask, "how did I get here? What miracle of will, what dust motes, which roads?"                                         And I am led downstairs, down slopes, past years and trees, and footsteps and decades, behind closed doorsm and mute walls, inside old rooms and beneath familiar ceilings, across sunsets and evenings, in front of fences, and faces, through beats and rhythms and voices, beyond tears and laughter, behind space and time, across space and time.                                                                   Tonight, I must remember to look at the clock. But first, buy the clock.                                                 This place needs a clock.