Sunday Poems 58: Going home

I’m writing you from an airport on the Hawaiian island of Kauai (it pretty much rhymes with the name of the state). For the last week and a half, this has been a holiday home, as half of my family came here post Christmas. We rented a house, then spent time hiking, swimming, reading, cooking, and dining.

Books are usually where I spend most of my time while on holiday. It seems at first silly, doesn’t it? Going to a place far away to read. But I find some books ask this sort of quiet of me. What better companion exists to go on a holiday with?

Sunday is a great day to do laundry, and empty out your bags. The bagpack, the shoulder bag, the suitcase you have stashed under the bed which probably has a few bits and bobs left in it from the last trip. You empty this all out onto your bed. A few things you might find: unfamiliar currency, a bottle of painkillers, an old notebook, five pens, a small philosophy book you thought you’d loaned out, and a boarding pass.

Below is a poem. Consider passing it on to someone who might enjoy it. As always, I’m here if you need to chat. Sunday Poems continues to be supported by a few generous backers over on Patreon. If you have an extra dollar or two a month and you appreciate reading these, please consider becoming a Patreon backer, so that I can dedicate more time to writing on this blog. Have a great week, everybody.


bring me in from the cold

a few moments standing
open to the trees,
snow is drawing lines
with few sounds

like birds,
with feathers,
hollow bones
for the breeze.

reserved trash for building materials
i hear dancing chromatics
as we turn each other to glue
with the help of the wind.


Theodore Fox is a poet living on Treaty Six land in Canada.
Sunday Poems is supported via Patreon.
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