Homeways

Homeways and slapped around by roiling cauldrons of wind I go, carrying a small bag of groceries.  Homeways to make dinner for her in warm quiet and ease.  The wires tented on tuning fork phone poles blow a single persistent note.  The sky is a lead harmonica playing January raga.  Homeways I'll cut the vegetables and stare blankly out the window at the drumstick bamboo clog dancing in the pissing rain. 

She came around and an ease settled into the wavy muddle of my thoughts.  She's here and I'm beginning to remember what goes on in the heads of children skipping through the colorless gloom singing, 'look at the big storm, look at it all'!  

I'm going homeways because I want her to smell saffron rice when she walks through the door.  Homeways to do every little thing to let her know love is around in the dark and in the light.  Homeways to make dinner for her in warm quiet and ease.