Tonight I found a home

Oh sweet memory …

Restless I walked to the coat rack and put my
hand on the dogs leash
Instantly he arises from slumber  in a rush of energy
Then sliding open the door we stepped into
the edge of dusk

Looking aloft I realized again tonight a night of
a full July moon I think ………yes the blood moon
down our sleepy town streets  the houses
retiring to slumber early
varying shades of blue
in darkened windows

Up the high plains road  to the pastures of hay
I look aloft as the moon dances to the edge of wispy clouds
yet which one is moving the slowest
We come to the big draught horses on the lane
and think that they might spook
but no they amble slowly away

Off in the long flat meadows the mist rises and
like lanterns aglow  the lightning bugs dance
though never again as thousands in my memory
Oh sweet memory
yet tonight I feel more at home than ever

There is no more magic in life than in a blood moon
an evening with my best  friend
a dance with the clouds on the plains
and a mellow though lonely knowing than
tonight I found my home

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EdF

Sometime in my life, I started to write about my life journey, or in poetry, in story perhaps to sort out the missing from the found perhaps and enter them into a place of safekeeping. The soul of the writer is perhaps best described in their own words, emotions and thoughts. If these poems or stories touch something inside you then maybe I have succeeded in sharing. I will not write about my self in profile, because self isn't so important in writing. Only the journey in words and the sharing are important. Why would we say "Now about me!"... I'd rather write about life, nature, serenity ...

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