'Coming Home' -- A Poem for Spring, by Joan Tiffany Doran

Last Autumn, Mom and Dad exchanged emails with Mom's first cousin and his wife, Tom and Joan Doran. Dad had just gotten out of the hospital and was resting up at home. Joan ended her email with:

"We hope Jack is recovering nicely--usually returning home is the best medicine. That reminds me of one of my poems, which I'll attach, with love.


--Joan (Tom, too)"

Joan and Tom Doran

COMING HOME

Today, a silent robin claims the cherry tree
and sits immobile on the topmost branch.
You’d hardly notice him at first,
but then you’d realize

his is the peace of resting after long travail.
Lately, he was just a speck against the sky,
churning through the winds
that seemed to blow the other way,

but always, he was flying toward this tree,
though its blossoms are still closed,
its fruits still to be set, its branches
waiting for the nest.

He’ll rest a little while, this traveler,
while snow melts from the mountainside,
spring rivers overflow their banks,
the valleys flush at last with green–

and in good time, the nest will fill,
the time to sing will come.
But when your passage has been long
and your only compass, thoughts of home,
just being home at last is song enough.

Thanks, Joan! And, Happy Spring to All Cousins!