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We arrive…and begin.
We begin…and return.
We return…and see what we’ve seen so many times - again.
The early season snow.
The morning fog.
The distant sound of geese.
A church and its steeple.
A singular light.
When - I wondered - did this become home?
An irresistible invitation - I thought.
That one small crack…that patch of light…that hint of morning blue.
Looked up - just in time to capture the south-bound geese.
Flying free.
Passing thru.
They told me they live on the top of the world.
Somehow - I didn't believe them.
And then - one morning - out of the fog they emerged.
Right where they promised.
Join us - they beckoned.
Soon - I said.
After this...there will be that.
We'll celebrate and laugh.
On top of this world.
We'll dance.
Together.