Being In Our Other Home

A wet week of it and we’re
about tuckered out from a
face to face confrontation
with less than public selves.

The dogs smell vaguely of a
dampness, tho’ less a reek
with background nuance
than malodorous scent.

It permeates closeness in a
shared space & nose now
rebels; packed & weighed
I’m ready to escape – soon

to leave for Sydney care of
Virgin Air, a lightness in the
step and eyes brightening
with sure prospects of seeing

smiling faces, hands reaching,
the embrace of arms familiar, of
voices greeting, of knowing care &
being in our other home again.
© 10 January 2008, I. D. Carswell