I’ve never been, precisely, homeless. 

I’m securely (so far) settled in the 1%

(Not in this country,

But certainly in this world).

When I’ve had a long day

And I suspect there’s viruses at play

I have a comforter

Of bright cranberry tones

To wrap my weary corpus. 

I don’t care for it, much,

This place I live,

But the rain that’s falling stays outside

And my comforter does not need

To turn aside the chilly wind. 

And yet I’ve felt the empty space,

The yawning gulf within that yearns

For #home. 

A place refreshing to the body and the soul. 

A place where shelter makes a space of calm. 

Pull up the cranberry comforter, then. 

This son of earth, and stars, and spirit

Needs refreshing, needs renewing,

Needs a #home.