Come Home

Spending too much time,

in the land of serious.

Intractable responses,

to waves of doubt

and projections from,

the heart of distrust.

 

By now,

I should be free of this,

shouldn’t I?

 

Getting close,

and wanting to share

just the bare minimum,

seems simple enough,

but then:

a look,

a phrase,

or a lack of either,

and the train leaves the station.

 

It’s raining,

birds have been awake for hours,

everything is alive with green purpose.

 

Come home.

Photo: Leigh Pumilia