At first, polders and farms.
The house built against the dike.
The channel flat, and frozen in winter.
Sharp thistles among the grass in summer.
Buttercups, hogweed and clover.
Then a stately home on the outskirts of a city.
Parks with old monumental trees and winding walking paths.
Huge iron gates and quiet dark ponds.
Autumn with dew and misty threads.
It took a few winters.
And became more lost.
The wandering began.
A new spring.
The brick villa with the small towers and high windows.
Assignments and goals. Listings of meals.
Playing fields. The sun rising early over the grounds.
The oak trees. The buildings.
The residents who couldn’t go home.
Then there were rooms, under sloping roofs.
Old refrigerators in the garden.
Moss between concrete tiles.
A city of canals and gates.
Later an apartment building next to a gas station.
Baskets hanging from the fenced balcony.
Flowers like stars, in purple, lilac, and white.
A spring in stroboscopic light.
The journey north, with its black soiled fields.
An old caravan sheltered in a wall of trees.
The brittle door away from the wind.
The nights cold.
The thin sheeted house soon left.
Heading back, southwest.
The land sloping gently into the sea.
The white lighthouse square against the sky.
At night the rolling sound of tides.
Poles in the ground around the house.
Digging holes in sand.
Planting. Gardening. A fence. A bench. A tree.
To travel away for one more time.
An interlude in a big port city.
A tower block, long walks back and front the river.
The summer hot and windy, with large casting shadows,
into the future.
Then the long stay begins.
Settling by the sea.
The plants densely growing the garden.
The sealight brushing sky high over church towers.
Year after year. Season after season.
Until an autumn when someone left the world.
And the wandering started again.
This time from west to east.
And back again.
Season after season.
Year after year.
The tree is still standing at the corner of the garden.
Bright light sweeping the church’s towers.
Big ships resting on the horizon.
The evening light crimson red declining.
But then in the east the sun rises brightly,
in soft shades of shimmering pink.
Above dark standing forests of the deepest green,
and the other cherished home.