The Relative Traveler

“I can’t keep track of where you are,” Mom said.
My brother asked, “You’re flying off again?”
My oldest friend observed I often head
up north to spend some days with family.
I have no wanderlust. In fact I dread
my absence from the nest I’ve built for me.
Around my house a lot, the truth instead
is you and she and he are home-stuck, when
I venture (never far) where loving led.

(Magic 9)

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

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