there i was, lost. long ago i looked up and around and yet, was always home. this flighty girl, this drifter. a hundred different addresses in your black book. where to find me. looking up, smiling, captured by the air of this town, that world, those realities. i don’t know where it all changed but here i am, seven years in the same place, seven years building on land and soil and community. each sunday morning it’s like clockwork how i make my way down the block, find my way into my window, press words onto paper and feel the breathing slow. i think of you, my home, my heart, and i wish for nothing but your love to be wrapped around me until the day we are old and wrinkled and take our last breaths into a deeper sleep. i don’t need anything but to feel my feet on this pavement and to look up, close my eyes and hear the sounds of the birds fluttering through the laurels. this creation you feel inside my belly, how warm i am and how the colors emerge from my cheeks. i look at you in your city and again, i am home. i smell the salty air and crush grapes between my fingers and it is delight. you saved me, you pushed me, oh how you knew me – and still know me. this february beckons, my history drops away as i climb the stairs to the upper deck and try to sleep away the time. crossing and reading and discovering how your simple look into me is all i need. how i am much shyer than i like to display and how the sun seems to weave its way into us even when we prefer the gray and solace. you feed me. you find me.