Closing the Loop

The pigeon tucks its wings
Folding a twenty year span

Home has meant a great many things

Hostel bunks, alarm-blasted garrets, cold floors
Rooms with no windows, rooms with automatic blinds
Warehouses and sharehouses with sliding doors

Two decades of takeoffs, with landings too many to map
I would have stuck at it
Yet….
COVID-this, and nesting-that

I return to an accent heard all round the globe
Soft vowels – secret code – unlocking memories
Of pies, chip butties – our retreating mode

I didn’t leave to change and I’m glad to find I’ve not
Rushing back to that green hideaway
It’s really something, what we’ve got