HOME

is such a delicate word

defined in so many unspeakable ways

written on our hearts where no one can see

home IS where the heart is

home is with my man

home is the northern great plains: Saskatchewan

home is Idaho with my grape vines wrapped round me, tendrils tight, fruit bright

Some places draw me to them.

Some places I will forget.

Some places perch upon the throne of my heart

for now and evermore because when we are together, there’s no telling where the one begins and the other ends.  I’ve got prairie beneath my nails: I’m named for the lilies there.  My blood runs black as the soil in a wheat field.  I don’t ever leave, I just let the land play tug-of-war with my soul until I see the light in the window and return home.  Wandering.  I’m wandering.