by Paula Bonnell

Now we have all that is needful. The rooms are furnished,
the agents appointed,
and ourselves in the rightful place.
The homeland is ours; the climate hums. Precisely nothing is missing.
Once it was otherwise; fogs hid the landmarks.
We were assailed by quirks of the weather and the other hazards of flux.
Even bald noon balefully flung black spots in our sight.
We are rid of our baggage now. We have outrun the shadows; we have padded our ribs.
Clearly we have arrived. This is a large plain place.
What we have is all of our own doing.
 Each of us is ready to denounce the first one who cries
 Oh God! to remove all this straightness, this downright ease!
 Take us back to the desert with its garish days
 and nights like blue shocks –
 I remember gladness like manna profligate all around. 

Photo by Jimmy Conover