Give me a body like the Shire, where change comes slowly, if it comes at all. For what is there is well— well like the simmering of the world in summer, like the wilding of woods that could not wither if they tried. Well— beloved for its rises and rivers, beloved like a thing to return to, scented with peonies, thyme, and good turned earth— cared for and cultivated, brave but not too wise, made to endure, made to know the cost of a good life and pay it anyway, by the forkful, by the wagonload, happily.
Carly Marlys is a poet, author, marketer, and occasional essayist (when the mood strikes). She posts poems about life, healing, and whatever else happens to catch her attention on the second and fourth Fridays of the month (or at least that is the goal). To receive said poems and delight in a variety of verse, please subscribe to this Substack.