a bowl of cereal, and  
a slice of cinnamon toast 
I watch morning blackbirds 
perch on fence posts 

our streetlamp posts  
are receiving new globes
 
down the village road 
there is the historic  
community Post Office 

where my daily poetry posts 
are again, free to roam. 
to every remote outpost 

I am no longer a frozen igloo host 
or a nomadic poet  
meandering in slow motion 
around the Ivory Coast 

no more stalking ghosts 
life is almost back to normal 
a bowl of cereal and 
a slice of cinnamon toast