After Thirty Years
Thirty years in one place.
Thirty vegetable gardens in the same soil.
Thirty woodsheds filled and emptied.
Thirty years through the woods and mountains
on the same trails.
This is an age of frantic travel and people think
I am a fool for never going anywhere.
It’s okay. I don’t care.
In another time I would have been a sage
for doing what I haven’t done.