Longing For Home



This patch of red earth

under my feet

even in drought

feels like home.

At dawn

I sit at the river’s edge

gazing east.

The rising sun star

almost always

turns pale light

into a world of color

that defies imagination

or words to describe

my wonder.

Even the lamenting horse

next door

breaking my heart

with his sorrow

is part of the story…

His anguish has become

my own.

I greet each day

with gratitude

and earnest prayer.


will I find home

in this high desert?

I long for roots –

dug deep as my longing –

and a place of my own.