Coming Home

Coming home one snowy eve

I paused just underneath the trees

to watch the sun’s fast fading light

surrender to the cloudy night.

In some fenced yard far down the hill

a dog barked twice, and then was still;

alarmed, perhaps, by some night sound

that came from shadows cast around.

The yellow windows’ brilliant glow

cut through the twisting, tumbling snow

to warm the peaceful, lonesome dark

as if a beacon to my heart

that called to me to enter in

and fill my full cup o’er the brim.

My family’s voices raised in song

embraced me as I crossed the lawn

and held me close like a dear friend

to greet me at my journey’s end.

Of all the joy I’ve ever known,

the most was felt when coming home.