“Home”

Windcatcher waving in the West 

Loud and soothing

I hear voices

I call home.

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Red robin taps and flies

Bread crumbs left behind.

The voices cheer

The ones that are my home. 

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Round and round 

Walking on clouds

I hear voices 

I know are my home. 

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Up and down

The path never fades

Where the beaver made a hole.

I hear voices

The ones that are my home.

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Draw, don’t hop

Numbers tell stories too.

I hear voices

That remind me I have a home.

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• My voice
• Poem
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