Since the womb. But leaving is hard,
Emptying my pockets of wallet and passport,
Leaving the bright lights, leaving the sights.
-----Pre-advent tamaracks show the way,
-----Exploding from green to gold, bursting
-----Into flares marking the way home,
-----Laying down, needle by needle, gold carpet.
I grew up on conifers,
Evergreen fir and pine and spruce.
Tamaracks are an annual surprise,
-----Opening the woods to winter light,
-----Invitation to a less that is more.
-----I loosen my grip, slow my pace, coming home.
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