The Host


We are late

in the hour of our arrival.

The journey

was not a particularly long one,

but a winter storm blew in

and left us

without a path to follow.

Picking our way

through the forest.

Pushing through

the drifted snow.

Risking injury,

or misdirection,

getting lost

out in the wild.

But we have our wits,

and we have our cunning.

Sturdy boots,

and warm coats.

Strong legs,

and knowledge

of this place,

and many others.

We are late

when we arrive at your door,

but when we knock

you kindly open.

You invite us in

to sit and warm ourselves

by your brightly burning hearth.

We tell you of our journey

and how we hope

we have not worried you.


we apologize for our lateness.

You smile and laugh,

eyes bright in the fire light.

Handing us each

a glass of warm, spiced wine,

you say

you never doubted us

for an instant.



DJR – 2023

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