
No matter the journey. No matter other roads taken. No matter you misplaced the map of your life behind a wheel of grief. No matter you took a multitude of detours.
Because as you look out the plane window, you understand the agency of this place. How it has been etched in your mind over decades of slow accrual through streams you have fished, forests you have hiked, mountains you have climbed, lakes you have swam in, oceans you have sailed.
And how like its great river that flows to the sea, it also flows through you, and you call it by name—home.
Yours in poetry,
Carey
Love This .It’s prefect considering the changes going on in my life. Thank you for sharing
Sent from Yahoo Mail on Android
LikeLike
Love this, Carey.
LikeLike
Thanks Jill. I wish you well.
LikeLike
Thanks Gary!
LikeLike