Coming Home


Image

when nature presents herself, naked and unafraid, in the cool winds of a lingering winter…the quiet in the woods sinks down into the very dust, and i am left with more wondering than wandering to do. she is brazen, but somewhat sleepy. she has not heard the call to awaken fully, and so it is with a tender shoot under pecan-dust smelling leaves that i find her heartbeat, and sit near that heart on a log overlooking a deep ravine.

she waits for her Master…her small streams trickling with the energy of a hibernating bear. she sounds…tentative…her bird alarms more croaking than frightening, her branches scratching each other so quietly, one could doze off in a deep sleep and wake hours later. 

but as i rest against a tree…the sun rays beat dreamily on open trail and i feel an upwind warmth invade the vale. the baked cool ground is warming, and i must be off, for spring is calling…calling me home.

 

 

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About thelostkerryman

Thelostkerryman is an author, and entrepreneur- this side of Tir Na N'Og- living in the forests of a consistently confused country. Here in this hill country, hurling doesn't usually involve a hurley, store-made soda bread resembles an inedible Irish megalith, and Kerrygold is only found hidden like a luck penny in the belly of Kroger. His blogs are an account of his adventures, thoughts, eclectic -and eccentric- ramblings, random or insightful poetry, humor and non-humor, pictures (photos), video, essays, fiction, poetic fiction, nonfiction, drama, and writing he has not classified in the description above. All of his posts from thelostkerryman.wordpress.com, talesinastrangerstrangerland@wordpress.com, everydayasadisciple@wordpress.com, and mrandmrsboring.wordpress.com are copywrited according to international copywrite law.
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2 Responses to Coming Home

  1. reocochran says:

    I like the images your words impart to us. I love the idea of Spring ‘calling you home!’ This was very lovely! Thanks for the nature poetry in prose. Robin

  2. Kirsten says:

    Boy oh boy, you painted us a fantastic word picture on this one! I love your imagery. This line is exquisite: “so it is with a tender shoot under pecan-dust smelling leaves that i find her heartbeat, and sit near that heart on a log overlooking a deep ravine.”

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