Dichotomy

Returning, there's a scribbled note:
'gone to see a man about a dog';
the vacuumed house deserted, quit
in final sundering flurry, resolute.

I know that glut of wall and roof:
the same compels my bid for air
in dank Decembers, going off
the rails or off-road or off the cuff.

Escapees from street and hearth,
we hole-up in heated rooms
till tidal urges pull us forth -
we amphi-dwellers needing both.

The twiggy trees in fading light:
a winter rookery's leafless-drip;
and trudging muddy road-side rut
on the outside, seeing inside lit

with yellow love and cosy gold,
I crave myself that hugs the lamb;
who, seeing me outside in cold
division, craves myself twofold.