By John Thomas Tuft

What is this desire I have to seek out a home?

The desire to say that I have something to say?

What is this loneliness that longs for love?

Why do I always hesitate when you ask me to stay?

Seasons come and seasons go, passing each other on the way

The moon rises, the stars come out, not caring if we say hello

The sun never asks permission to shine its warm light

Just after sundown the gods whisper to all creatures below.

In the twilight mists the fairies start dancing

Beckoning to travelers to wander off the path

Beware lest you follow them beneath the canopy

Just after sundown you may discover you cannot go back.

If we truly believe we cannot change who we are

And all of life’s meaning can be stitched on a pillow

Then perhaps the best choice we can ever make

Just after sundown to be found dancing beneath the willows.