Homely Quasi sonnet

# 3 Settling in

As the gnarled wise old mother
would have firmly told me
the city was not greener on the other side
even though the bush was ever-green
the bark seemed to have a similar
roughness to it
the sharp edges of dormant
mountains bubbling
had a myriad of open valleys
where I fould a calm
tossed and turned by wild waves
riddling the new day welcome
by a driftwood bonfire
yet the valleys of yesteryear still holds my home