Janice M. Bostok

The Homecoming

when ready each traveler turns back as a cow does from distant pastures at milking time instinctively with a bovine devotion once the decision has been made

on any one day a forward thrust is seduced by adventures which may possibly be found around the corner of each new day

overnight the facing home looms large and necessary a plodding which quickens towards the ending of the trip

it takes time to return home from a journey for days afterwards my mind still weaves along country roads which join the state highways which then become motorways which quickly lead into the city to end in front of the airport joining the tracks of humanity slowly moving towards the check-in counters waiting at customs then being abruptly herded onto the plane

while my body sits in limbo in economy class my memory is laidback in a friend’s car being driven carefully through the streets of a seaside town or smoothly on sealed roads past vineyards towards lunch at the winery or perhaps on excursion into the mountains or along the coast road towards another town

the excitement of unfamiliar scenes runs high it takes time for me to reclaim that unfamiliar territory which i must once again call my home

returning home —
plump jacaranda blossoms
hold firm before
the rainy season weakens
their faded purple hold