I sat on the stoop of Bedlam Farm,

and we talked. Both of us have often cried

this past year with one another,

when no one is looking, for who

would understand shedding tears for a farm?

Let’s start laughing again, I said.

You are in my blood now, the farm said,

mixed with my soil,

you can never leave me,

that is so true, I said, and you can never leave me,

but we can both move on.

You broke my heart when you left, the farm said,

and it broke mine to leave, I said,

they came one after one,

but they could not see,

they came to look,

but couldn’t love,

still

but it’s like having a good dog,

it can only be one thing,

not everything.

This lonely time is over, I said,

your fences need trimming,

and painting, your gardens weeding,

the big old rooms are getting dusty,

the weedwhackers oiling up,

you can start laughing again.

You saved me, the farm said,

yes, I answered,

and you saved me.

but a pitcher needs a cup,

and you need dogs in your yards,

rabbits in your barn, donkeys in the pasture,

children in the studio barn, telling ghost stories,

having sleepovers, shrieking and running on your paths

I am here today to tell you this,

we are all playing in God’s Orchestra,

some wield their guns and arrows,

some play their fiddles.

Tonight is worthy of music,

your new people are coming.

We’ve shed so many tears together,

brought each other back from the dark places,

brushed one another up to go out into the world,

It’s time to start laughing again.

They are coming.