I Took the Long Way Home
Like my eyes, the horizon brims with tears,
Pouring down upon the far, scattered hills,
The happy hamlets, the brooks
That feed the water mills.
It occurs to me so gently
Why these scenes proliferate in books;
The hard lines that contain a city, faintly
Fall and converge with the softness of the wood
Till the quiet beauty of nature is again understood
A serenity the mind recalls from long ago—
A younger me peering the vale from a window;
A sight that past fulfilled my wanting eye,
Searching so many years—
I find myself back where I began,
Crying these tears,
A thankful man.
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