Homing

And in the evening

I find myself desiring

the close-winged flutter

of gathering —

families and clans

home to roost,

home to the weighted warmth

of bodies who belong together,

long flights notwithstanding,

distances of years and thought

falling off 

with the shrug of feathers

and the nestling in,

warm throughout the night.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 5, 2017