A loon toward his lake—

Bloodshot eyes and new scars

To show his lover.

The time alone

Spent in bed

After late nights.

Homely, welcoming curves—

On familiar roads

That started far away.

True voyage is return.

As the hound knows—

Briefly breaking out

With dreams of fowl

Trapped in his maw.

He bounds through prairie

And ducks from branches

Then slows the heart

And heads back home.

With slobbered memories

Of life unbound, with

A tail that says

He’s glad he’s found.