Backyard in Autumn

Eagerly I plan voyages to far off lands.
Five hundred miles to New England, a thousand miles
to camp in Kansas.
I fly halfway ’round the world to New Zealand or hop
across the pond to England, France or Germany.

I cruise the coast of Spain, make music with
friends in Sweden and Holland,
Explore the streets of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem,
Feel the shapes of strange yet familiar language in my mouth
linking me to bus drivers and new friends.

What sends me out draws me back to places I know.
I remember a certain flow of light, a place where
tree branches dance
Like ballerinas bedecked in bronze ombré, wildly
stretching their graceful limbs.

The place I seek is home.


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