Housewarming

Now that we've cleaned the house for a week

that hadn't been lived in ten years,

and climbed the hills blooming hawthorn

as cloudfog swept in,

turning to snow as it touched us;

now that a horse has joined the cows on the grass

at our bend in the river,

where swallows joy-dive all day long for bugs;

now while we try the sharp local wine,

and the fish stock's perfume pushes all the way upstairs,

my body opens and knows we are here,

living,

in the remotest part of France.