All Headed Home!

sundown,
color drenched mountains,
new budding trees
reach out to touch.
just a hint of coolness,
the distant smell of woodsmoke.
people pass in a hurry,
all headed home.

and so we are,
at sundown and waiting.
remembered in color,
forgotten by touch.
hurrying after
a scent in the distance,
all headed home...
all headed home!

poem by Eric CockrellReport problemRelated quotes
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