This subject is obviously preying on my mind. The Oracle knows. She said it was okay to have a two line puente.
Home is where the heart is, always or never.
Look and you may find it through the mists of midday,
not in the dark dance of icy mornings, nor in
the salt smile of the ocean, a sop for fools
who see hearth fires in a cracked glass,
though ice, steel-cold, coats budding shoots.
For those who dream of tropic seas and the comfort of
cushioned wealth, when frost webs splinter the panes
~the signs are there in the clouds
and the rumbling of the earth~
Remember, she says, ice melts, glass breaks,
and desire is devoured by death.
Listen; a voice, a word lingers where fish dart
and wild dogs howl the moon—hope is sailing.
Only on a night like this, washed clean by ocean
winds, can we see the stars beyond the clouds,
fiery ghosts of the youth of the world, and where
the stars shine and when the midday mists clear, home.