Homey

I miss spending my days at home.  

This place.  The one that smells of coffee and woodsmoke.  

This place that is a reflection of my imperfect self.  I embrace my homey tendencies.  And acknowledge that there are times when I dream of flight.  The lure of being somewhere deep in the woods.  Quiet and alone with nothing taking me out of each and every moment.  Feeling it all - the hum of the earth.  movement of wings.   rustle of leaves.  roar of wind.

Those moments surface and then pass.  

The one that comes each time I arrive home remains.