As I arrive

At the gates

I'm welcomed by

The faimilar sights,

Sounds and smells of home.

There's a horse

Running in the pasture,

The roar of the river

Rushing through the dam

And the aroma of

Fresh homemade bread.

The winding lane

Leading to the house

Is adorned with
The bright colors of fall.

The leaves crunch

Beneath my feet as I

Walk down the path

My step gets lighter

The closer I get to home.

The clearing up ahead reveals

The familar brick home
Of my youth and
I feel my spirits left as

I think about being home

To share Thanksgiving dinner

With my family and friends.