home

The waning moon had a tail of cloud tonight
As we stepped carefully in the darkness toward
An understanding of home, ad understanding
of when to hold on and when to let go.

Hope bent the screen door for want of looking up,
And on several occasions more than my two eyes were blurry.

How is a soul moved? we asked
And where in words lies self?
And when before the dawn of thought
Did my love for home begin?