I was outside in the backyard today and the wind was blowing. I felt for a moment like I was in the prairie strolling though knee high grasses on my Grandpa's farm with my mother. What I realized is that I am never far from home.
Maybe home isn't a place. Maybe home is our journey. Maybe we are all already home.*
What's your home?
Windingly Straight
The butterfly
glides in circles
and sideways
through trees;
lands and
dances away again
We delight in its
hap-hazard path
We laugh in its
drunkenness
But the butterfly
follows the scent of
the alien bee balm,
the sunshine zenia,
purple-crowned bush
The butterfly makes
no mistake--
Flying straightways
to the sweetness
it calls home
The butterfly laughs
turning circles of delight
as we spin along our
windingly straight way;
never quite knowing
we are already home
*Thanks, Jen, for reminding me I am always already home.
Maybe home isn't a place. Maybe home is our journey. Maybe we are all already home.*
What's your home?
Windingly StraightThe butterfly
glides in circles
and sideways
through trees;
lands and
dances away again
We delight in its
hap-hazard path
We laugh in its
drunkenness
But the butterfly
follows the scent of
the alien bee balm,
the sunshine zenia,
purple-crowned bush
The butterfly makes
no mistake--
Flying straightways
to the sweetness
it calls home
The butterfly laughs
turning circles of delight
as we spin along our
windingly straight way;
never quite knowing
we are already home
*Thanks, Jen, for reminding me I am always already home.
It could have been the same breeze from your grandpa's farm...sent halfway across the country to find you. I bet the breeze smiled too.
ReplyDelete:) Thanks, Lila. Ocean currents move water through all the oceans, so I suppose breezes can move across a few miles too.
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