You awaken the homesick places. I locked these landscapes away long ago, left them to the weeds and the waves and the wild things and beat my wings toward the horizon. I move on, I migrate, I don’t trust the vulnerability of nests. But you are the hollow in between branches, the dry underside of leaves in a summer storm, calling for me to land.
Original prompt and writing series can be found here: http://eepurl.com/bRepQP