Scarlet Is My Home (Poem)

The gravel of this hard earth,
The sound of weathered voices singing together
From separate plots in the ground when the candle blows out
The sun off duty, whistling as the moon takes up shift
And glows its disapproval yet silent assent
On the earth below, this ancient and tumultuous earth.

My home, the scarlet invention,
The provision for those who wish and those who abstain,
No longer away as my youth once allowed,
Now returned, to leave no more.

-D.