Returning
like a prodigal child
I circle around where I belong
gathering bits and pieces of place
holding them close as I leave again
remnants of home
rocks and wood
found on beaches and in forests
primeval in their isolation
the wind whispers
through the mist of the wave’s curl
through the needles of the evergreens
a parent’s call for me to return
Pamela Olson, 5/27/08
This poem was written for the prompt
“The Return” on Writer’s Island.
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