And so we dream of adventuring

And store the travel brochures in shoeboxes on our closet shelves

And fall asleep singing to ourselves “on the shores of Mandalay where the flying fishes play”

And then find a man who has a compass in his heart too

Who hears the seagulls flying over Illinois corn fields

And in time

We take flight

So many places with strange sounding names…


Now in this octogenarian decade
The names still call to us, like sirens on the rocks

All those points not yet seen or touched

But the bed also sets up a steady hum

Home, it hums, home, stay here, be warm
Snuggle down in the sleek sheets
Never move again

Outside in the winter moonlight, the Lorelei sing

Kristin Moyer
January 2024