My Country’s Colours

I like looking out the window of the train.  I don't do it very often, but when I do, I find myself freed from distractions and able to think.  Perhaps the blur of the world outside is sight's equivalent to white noise, blocking out all else but what the mind might offer. That is where …

Home

No matter where you travel in this world, homeis where the heart is, they say.Where is this home? I ask,when its past is trail of feeding blackbirds?Where is this home whenthe threadbare pieces that remain dangle from my gnarled, decaying branches?Where is this home when I take the thread and needle and try to to …