Wings of the Morning

Barely home, and we’re flying again,
touch and go, capture and release,
yet something else, when we consider
our progress down the ever flowing stream

We home in on home each day,
each day, we find it new,
and if we’re lost on any given evening,
there still is time to settle in,
to find our place

And in the morning, off on new adventure,
we’ll know we can touch home at any time,
home in the kindly tended refuge
of being known in ever-present Mind.

©Wendy Mulhern
March 2, 2019

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