As a new wife I chose mountains, made a home of them and that’s
where we were surrounded by potted plants and cats.
Perched amid the redwoods, my art studio in their shade,
I looked out across the mountains as I made and made and made.
I was happy in the mountains, but the incline and the trees
made living somewhat harder as I began to wheeze.
The pollen took my breath away and walking was a labor––
the trees impeding access to and vision of each neighbor.
So I moved to the desert, with openness my quarry.
I loved its subtle beauties and the sparseness of its glory.
All the arms of cacti reaching to the sky,
the faded pastel sunsets as starry nights drew nigh.
But, although good for walking at a faster pace,
the desert, lacking moisture, dried my hands and face.
It dusted all my furniture and opened cracks in wood,
carved other furrows in my face, where they remain for good.
The ocean spreads before me, a different watery land––
all her morning treasures displayed across the sand.
I examine coral and the fragile bones of fish,
surveying and collecting everything I wish
But the ocean is bipolar—sometimes she’s a bitch.
Perspiration trickles, causing me to itch.
I love the beach in wintertime and love it in the fall,
but beachside in the summer is no fun at all.
I have lived in mountains, the desert and the sea
and all these special places still have a place in me.
But if you ever ask me which place I’d like to be,
I fear I’d have to answer that I think I need all three.
The mountains in the summer loom up and beckon me.
The desert in the winter, balanced by the sea.
It seems there is no place on earth where I will just remain.
I claim mountains, sea and desert as my regions of domain.