A home is truly made
By wandering through the woods

Meandering and trodding

Stopping every so often

To gaze at a patch of moss
Lit by a narrow ray of sunlight

Scraping a finger across bark

Knocking on wood ands stone

Splashing and jumping along
A winding and narrow stream

To have a destination

Is to start your journey wrong

For all the most interesting things
Are not sought for or expected

They merely themselves wander

Until they too return home