From up so high, the colours blur; from here,
a poet should have more to say, but I
am not concern'd with how the atmosphere
blends all to grey. Then sudden! as we fly
beneath the clouds that hover over home,
I'm overcome with something like a love.
Two years took me away -- away to roam
a land to brim with strangers. From above,
my home feels like a friend with welcome arms;
it rushes up to meet me; landmarks wave
to greet me. And the loveliness and charms
of home promise a year, worth both I gave.
Unlike the world I saw and all I've seen,
my home, instead of grey, is soothing green.