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, entrepreneur, and disciple- 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. This blog is 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 my posts, thelostkerryman.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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