Monday, End of Day

The iron ranch gate slides open,
The steep twisting mountain climb is behind us,
The crawling congested commute far below.

I glide down narrow roads
bordered by bridle paths and heavy hoof prints;
Soft golden light spills from distant windows
into the frost kissed night.
Gravel and dry leaves crunch beneath my tires
as the dogs run the fence in greeting.

A glass of red wine waits by the flames
of the creaking cracking wood stove.
Warm strong arms wrap around and hold me
in a welcome home hug.