Going Home Poem by Martin Lochner

Going Home



as you drive towards
the farm house

childhood poplars
crowd the dirt road

tenant larks and sparrows
whistle and chirp the home coming[
it is still dark but the red period
light breaks the black cloaked horizon

crickets, frogs and mallard ducks tell
the acres of windy wetlands

that the prodigal son has returned home

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