The Woods, My Home
Donald P. Goodman III
Version 1.0,
My chamber towers high; my ceiling sees the sun,
which sprinkles rays around my room and renders bright
my splendid space; and sunlight seals the day's sweet run
long after deepest darkness turns the noon to night,
the black a blanket cloaking and enclosing me,
the muted shine of moonlight and the sparkling star
alighting countless living columns; I can see
a chamber small and cozy, close but stretching far.
I live within this chamber, though it has no walls,
although its roof lets in the rain, and all may roam
within it; I know that this fortress never falls,
that ever will these pillars hold my dearest home.