by Phyllis Beebe

I went back home again today
in the misty morning fog,
To where long dead ancestors lay
beneath dew cobwebbed sod.
Following familiar roads
that skirt the primordial fen,
Threading leafy mountain coves,
heading Home again.

My heart each mile more strongly beat,
created of that earth.
I need to feel under my feet
the soil that gave me birth.
Welcoming arms mere memories
blown bye on summer wind.
Strong and warm they seem to me.
I am at Home again.