On the last day
of this adventure,
I'm pulled in two directions.

Not eager for the journey
to end,
I scroll through
endless destinations,

enticed by what
could be next.

Could be—
but may not be.

There are paths
I have not walked,
shores I have not seen,
and always, somewhere,
another turning
just beyond my sight.

Adventure calls loudly.

But beneath it,
quieter and deeper,
is the still, small voice
of home.

The people I love.
The warm embrace
of knowing and being known.

And still I linger,
looking back
at where I’ve been
and wondering
where I might yet go.

Then, through glad-sad weeping,
I turn into the autumn mist,

through emerald woods,

knowing, somehow,
the answer.

A longing to see
what waits beyond
the next bend,

and another longing,
deeper still,

for the place
where wandering ends.

So I turn toward home,

toward the outstretched arms
awaiting my return.

David K. Carpenter
September 2026