We were living
on a quiet, leafy street
across from a green grass gazeboed park.
There were pool parties and Bunko,
a backyard tree
with tawny blushed crispy sweet apples.
On a wet November day
we came upon an empty mountain meadow;
— for sale —
Debt doubt questioned the wisdom
of building our dream.
Surely it was nonsense
to believe we had the strength and ability
to raise a barn
and live within the seasons’
Fear knotted in my stomach
while the dream beat
us up the mountain.