Belongs

“One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years.”  Tom Wolfe

How far?

“There is no question that there is an unseen world. The problem is, how far is it from midtown and how late is it open?”  Woody Allen

I Belong To It

“I love New York, even though it isn't mine, the way something has to be, a tree or a street or a house, something, anyway, that belongs to me because I belong to it.”  Truman Capote

Love New York in the Fall

“Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address.”  Nora Ephron

New Vigors

Travel and change of place impart new vigors to the mind - Seneca

A Book

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” St Augustine

New Way

Henry Miller said “One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” 

The Shepherds Tree

I remember the last time I heard the wind whisper your name across the desert plain. 
The wind she blew you on adventure away from your sheep and away from me. 
So I wait for you. I wait until the sons of ISIS bring you back to me. 
While I wait my heart lies buried deep in a tomb somewhere neath the Valley of the Kings. 
And I sit under the Shepherds Tree, holding your staff, watching your flock. 
It shelters me, bark healing smooth grey knotted and scarred, it holds me tight while I wait. 

I remember the last time I watched the waves carry you far away past the Nile. 
The river she beckoned you on a hero’s journey closer to the sun and closer to your gold. 
So I wait for you. I wait until the sons of ISIS bring you back to me. 
While I wait my heart lies buried deep in a tomb somewhere neath the Valley of the Kings. 
And I sit under the Shepherds Tree, canopy of autumn leaves filtering the sky. 
It comforts me, clusters of khaki star shaped buds so strongly sweet, it holds me tight while I wait. 

Blue fades to grey darkens to night and holds each star in its own time and space.
Black melts brown into fuscia golden sunrise and holds my heart in its own time and place. 
So I send you on your way and wish a thousand of every good and pure thing for your ka. 

I remember the first time I saw you midnight dreaming under the Shepherds Tree.
The moon she called you on a quest following your bliss following your heart. 
Since then I have waited for you. I wait until the sons of ISIS bring you back to me. 
While I wait my heart lies buried deep in a tomb somewhere neath the Valley of the Kings. 
And I sit under the Shepherds Tree, parched summer breeze humming of tales long ago. 
They remind me, fragments of you burnt into memory, to hold me tight while I wait. 

As the stars need the night sky and the eye needs the storm 
As my earth needs your fire and the tide needs the moon 
I need you like the desert sun.