At Home

A Poem by Wyoming McGinn

She counts the days
til her reunion
with new and old friends.¹

The wolf
on her mother’s desk,
looking north,
missing parts of his coat of fur but really
missing freedom
His puzzle has taken 5 days already.
In front of him
every time she looks through
she sees through her window;
up that road it is
only a short run, she explains.
But,
It is 4 miles around the lake:
1 to the end
of the road,
2 past the entrance
to the empty beach,
she passes mile 3 by his house
and finishes back on the dirt road.
Another run,
4 miles,
the farthest she can go,
she’s out of breath.
Breath goes in out in out in out.
She’s going in circles.

What else?
Knocking on the door,
scratching from kittens,
clouds blocking sunset views,
drives with no end,
music which tells her
to dance.
At least, unlike the broken wolf,
the forest can have her
until her drives can take her
to her houses and homes,
and the people she misses.

^{1 Lines 1-3 Reference “Duck Eggs” by Ruth Ozeki}