In surprise moments
stepping out from a room
or coming around a corner
I breathe home

There is a kind of home I take with me —
a comfort on the bus, and walking unknown streets,
There is the home of outlook,
the flavor with which my eyes frame everything

But this kind of home
jumps into me,
a complete surprise,
gift from the land, the air:
the scent of belonging —
not me claiming it,
it claiming me,
gathering me
calling me its own.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 30, 2015