Matthew 8:20 - November 10, 2014

A backpack with a toothbrush
And an extra pair of clothes.
Walking without an apparent purpose
To wherever the cold wind blows.

Something calls him to the West
So to other lands he’ll roam.
He stumbles up to this house
Which he’s hesitant to call his home.

“I live here” is half the truth.
The other half he’s yet to find.
Perhaps that half hides in heaven
Just out of reach of all mankind.

Foxes have holes, and birds have nests,
Yet we have yet to find a place of rest.

So he wrestles with the restlessness
Like the rustling leaves below.
Charged with an urgent obligation
To wherever the cold wind blows.