Leaving Slocanada, Again

Took a long time for me to know
What home is, the simple feeling

Without much thinking, this is it;
It is this. I hadn't felt it

Among the warm faces, places
Where I'd lived, favorites I'd visit.

Didn't feel it, couldn't know it,
Couldn't understand that it's not

A rapture or a longing but
Contentment. Home's not better than

The dark romances of being
Alien and doesn't end them.

In the moment that it hits us
As a sudden satisfaction,

It is. It's not what takes us in.
It's what is when we take it in.

I looked up once or twice and knew
Home was this. So, now that I know,

I’m okay with being away
For a bit: for a bit, again.