Again I find myself wandering,
Upon meandering paths.
Well worn do my feet feel,
Accepting each rut and groove.
Upon thresholds do I tread,
As if passing the doorway of every childhood place.
I am home in ever age of my life,
Feeling a warm breeze upon my face.
It is a wonder to fill my chest till bursting,
And sight among trees willing to listen.
Beneath a welcoming patch of sky,
Do I tent my mind and stretch.
Enjoying each sensation of my body in this place,
My place I claim as a bird to a nest diligently woven.
But a simple mote am I,
Upon a sea of thriving spinning life.
I will wander a bit further more,
And enjoy these peaceful moments.
Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.