Home again

It was while I was shaving
that the mountain burst into flames.
Granite ignited by the sunrise, and
I was home again.

It was while I pulled into their gate,
with the familiar sign and dusty lane
that the fields turned green.
Grass and bush transformed by familiarity, and
I was home again.

I was while we were talking
about old times and stories
that I smiled.
Two people brought together, and
I was home again.

It was while I was driving
down the long road
and crested the hill to see the valley.
Ridges and grassscapes and horizons brought once more into focus, and
I was home again.

It was when I was walking
on paths that went where I told them to go
that the way seemed sure.
Clarity spawned from not worrying about where to put my feet, and
I was home again.

It was when I was leaving
that I knew.
I had been home again.

28 May 2011
L. Powell 
At the Brandberg.  At home.