And when I'm blue, I write. Even though this isn't scanning satisfactorily, this seems a good place to post it so it's not lost.
The Last Gift God Gave
Was to let us discover
How we waste our life, striving after
Till we lose what we owned all along
At the end, we were wrong
To strive each day for a handful of trees,
An acre of land, time on our knees
We could have done that any time
By walking away, drawing a line
And finding a quiet tent by a stream
We can let go of the unseen
And return as we came
To name it home
But we come home, tail between legs
Grateful for small gifts: milk and eggs
And the blushing tomato on our own vines
This – this is nothing, but it is mine.