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
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.