there's always the danger
of life in this new place
happening other than you thought.
here, where your boxes arrived
intact and right on time,
here, far from marauders
and snowstorms and enemy tribes,
here, where you have a job
you love that pays good money,
here – even here – where
Jordan waters stood up in a heap
at the touch of one obedient foot,
there may yet be giants
in the land. (or even worse,
there may be none.)
folks you meet will want to hear
about your past, exciting life –
once.
whatever god you followed so far
will continue to direct you –
in theory.
the pain and sweat of your adventures
will only make stability taste sweeter –
sometimes.
other times, wondering and unsure,
you will go down to the stream
and sit among the trees
with your cell phone off.
listen to soft, arboreal promises.
watch the trout mime messages
in the shallows. whistle.
there may be only one spot like this:
one spot that looks just like
you thought it would look;
one spot that doesn't disappoint
whatever expectations you brought with you;
one spot that doesn't make you
look longingly at the open road
and want a wilderness.
the verdant fields of possibility
will always outstrip and outperform
the rough streets and urban sprawl of the actual,
because you are an optimist
when it comes to somewhere else
but a pessimist once you get there.