home is where the heart is. a poem.

Home is where the heart is, they say. but this heart is a wanderer a nomad an immigrant always and never at home. Thin white roots stretch their delicate fingers behind me each time I go a spiders web of belonging wrapping up this world in its soft cocoon. I am often leaving but never…

distracted

the sun came out today after a week of fog and freezing rain and it is distracting me i keep finding myself gazing out the window instead of answering those last few emails before my holiday begins and i leave this office and the johnny cash music on the stereo head home to rush packing…