Blackberry Lane greets us
with a smile,
Welcoming us back to our home.
The white car crawls up the lane,
The sound of crunching gravel,
Underneath the tread of the tires.
On the right,
A herd of angus cattle,
A harras of black and brown horse's
on the left.
Beyond a row of cedar trees,
My neighbor’s house stands.
I can smell the smoke
billowing from its chimney,
as we turn onto the driveway.

Almost home now,
I see the dark shingles
On the top of my roof
in the distance.
I open the window of the car,
The gust of wind hits me.
A whirlwind of destruction.
And then I hear
Birds singing songs of joy
From the pine trees in the forest.

Finally,
We pull up in front of the house.
Get out, and head inside.
Sauntering through the garage,
Passing a coat rack of jackets
Bulging like a rainbow afro.
I go to my room,
And fall onto my bed
Like a leaf
falling to the ground outside.
Nothing has changed
Like no time has passed
Since I left this morning.
Home sweet home.