We walked along by the river again today.  There were lots of houses, some posh, some not so posh – but this little crumbling cottage caught my eye.  Looks like nothing, but there are signs of someone who calls this place home.  Potted plants and a towel hanging by one peg on the line…

…no matter how humble there’s no place like home.


I will always
be a part, of
this moment
this sunlight
this birdsong.
I will always take
these memories
when I go…

distant truck
changing gear on the long hill
drowned by a blackbird

rushing flight
of a Kereru
above the trees

two Monarch butterflies
dancing in the sun
before the next
long winter comes

coolness of clouds
diluting the sunlight
presence of love


© Maureen Sudlow

No place like home