Bounded

Boundaries creep up.

Unexpected walls grow in rooms.

Moving through the house requires

walking a twisting labyrinth.

Every foot fall necessitates careful planning.

Underfoot a future dog bounces

through the rooms.  He’s unconcerned

by moving walls and sudden twists and turns

and unconcerned that he is in his own

self-important way a boundary.

Planning the future gives you a sense

of control.  But life has a way of taking

over.  Kids move back in with way more stuff

than they took away as unconcerned as the

puppy they agree to adopt.

We stuff, we sort, we box up what

can not be put away.  Watch the walls

go up all cardboard and plastic.  What

does not grow up grows out, spreads

in random profusion until we

don’t know which wall we own,

which new table we created.

Was it our pile of paper that blew

away in the wind from the open door

so puppy can go outside?

We are bounded on all sides

by twenty something’s, a

grey bouncing fluff ball and our own

growing pile of conjugated property.

And yet we are bounded by joy.

January 2014