echoes in my ears
as our car pulls in
to the snow-dusted driveway.
And the stars are uncovered,
because the clouds are away,
and it's with tired eyes
that I behold them.
My feet are wet
from all the slush,
and I regret wearing summer shoes
in the middle of February.
But what matters most
as I walk through the garage
is that I am here,
and the miles separate.
I am welcomed home,
by what is known
and by what is old
nothing new,
nothing has changed,
and in this season
where nothing is constant,
"home" is what I need.
Maybe I'll smile.
