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Poem by Katya Sabaroff Taylor

Finding my way home

I go the long way around

stopping here and there to

soak up the terrain

the blast of the sun

the misty rain.

I even climb an apple tree

to pluck a red-cheeked fruit

while a nearby bird whistles, saying

“Good choice!”

I bed down in abandoned haylofts

and on the summit of craggy mountains

where the milky way

spills her glitter on the dark sky.

I scribble poems in a notebook

kept in my back pocket

because the journey is so

layered and worthy

and sometimes should I run into

a stray cat, I read my words to her

while she gently swishes her tail.

Oh I do believe in home

where my heart can find its ease

and my pillow is soft and comforting.

I know it’s there, calling to me

a cottage with a lilac door

or an adobe casa

beside a flowering cactus.

I hear the wind chimes now

singing and urging me on.

Home is just around the bend

and besides, my notebook’s full

and my hair could use a comb.

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