The Traveler Poem by James McLain

She is here, coming home.
She emits independent light.
Sunday off the side road,
and past the chain locked gate.

She see's to great lengths.
Distance holds us present.
Words never leave without regret.

The sea and the cave and the star or stone.
Maleness is night or my best friend.
There is where my house is never used.
This is why it is.
When independence is my agony.
Distance is considered, short or long.