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The Homeward Call

The swallowtail butterfly defying all distance Hold its course against the sun And seek through space a migrant's chance Of flying to the land of its birth The hornbill turtle tunneling its watery way Swim against the tidal flow To find the distant shore of sand or bay That popped it from egg to air And I have seen between spring and winter The birds from the north homing Through the crimson evening ere the shutter Of night falls upon their way And I here, my eyes beyond the distant sea Like all creatures before me know There is a place of birth, a golden memory And when he calls then I shall go. Home is where the heart goes yearning For forgotten treasures now bright To home at evening my wings stealing Carry me safely through the night.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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Date: 5/7/2009 6:04:00 PM
Indeed, we are all called home at the end of our days, David. How beautifully you describe the instinct to find our way back to "forgotten treasures now bright." You have a creative and sophistocated writing style that I admire. This is an incredible example. Love, Carolyn
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