Home

I don't know that this will ever be home
From here I do not hail and feel adrift with no roots
Yet on golden nights such as this
I can't help but wonder if maybe this isn't the best place to be
As I escape the bustle of a river city of men
I feel the gentle rush of a summer breeze, reminding me that it is safe here
I keep my eyes on the road, impressed with the colors abounding ahead
Yet when I take the time to look from side to side
I see what cannot be fairly described
Uneven rows of mountains in the distance keep watch over their sisters, the rolling hills
Golden fields of grain are illuminated by a sun that for just one moment
Blesses us with the color of a sky on fire
The air is heavy with the scent of hay awaiting it's journey elsewhere
And of air more fresh than I can ever remember here
As I begin to travel the road that leads back to the city and the lights
I am frozen in a moment of beauty
The sun winks as it goes to rest behind it's mountain for the night
And the sky is left alone, wielding all the majesty it alone can muster
I let the  tangerine melt into lavender and eventually back to a deepened blue
Before I step out of my comfort in this dream
It seems that despite my greatest effort life has taken be aback
And somehow, some way,
This has become my home, too