About to modify my week’s routine,
about to leave my nest to board a plane,
I hover like a hummingbird between
two blossoms that will fuel me as they drain
my introverted energy. The strain
of leaving sanctuary is the price
I’ll pay for love and sweet return. I’ll gain
more good than pain, and get to come home twice.


This entry was posted in Coronaverse, Family, Home, Poetry, Transit and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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