On the rare occasion
That I find myself
On the other side of the world
I am reminded of
The power of home
And all the little familiar things
That have gnawed and wedged themselves
Into me without my noticing
A Carolina Wren singing from my garden
In the cool of the morning
The gnats tickling my ears and nose
As I sweat out the heat of the day
The green, rolling land arcing
To the horizon
Pebbly dirt, sandy loam
Over red clay
Slow, muddy water
And the birds, always
The birds
Singing the land alive, hidden in the trees
I can hear all of this
Better, in its absence
Giving rhythm to the only life I know
And the deep longing rises up
An ache soothed only by
The scent of pine needles
Heavy night air
And the song of the Carolina wren
In the cool of the morning
6-8-15
©2019 Lenny Wells
Thoughts From The Orchard 