04-12-2023, 01:46 AM
I stride through an April morning
legs pulling me forward
heart suspended in a cool breeze
passing through interspersed sounds
of birdsong, a workman’s hammer, the occasional passing car
headed for the German cemetery, my goal and turnaround.
New Braunfels is my exile, an inheritance mostly regretted,
but I’d be sorry wherever I found myself,
it’s a restlessness that runs in my family,
the same way contentment seems to run in my wife’s blood,
so I walk on, a few clouds drifting south in a clear sky,
to the quiet of a few acres of German pioneers,
exiles themselves. Aren’t we all, even the contented,
long past calling any place home?
legs pulling me forward
heart suspended in a cool breeze
passing through interspersed sounds
of birdsong, a workman’s hammer, the occasional passing car
headed for the German cemetery, my goal and turnaround.
New Braunfels is my exile, an inheritance mostly regretted,
but I’d be sorry wherever I found myself,
it’s a restlessness that runs in my family,
the same way contentment seems to run in my wife’s blood,
so I walk on, a few clouds drifting south in a clear sky,
to the quiet of a few acres of German pioneers,
exiles themselves. Aren’t we all, even the contented,
long past calling any place home?