Ithaca

The circadas chirp in the heat of the day

Hanging heavily suspended

On the breeze of the summers day.

The island of Ithaca held many treasures,

The ruins of the palace sunken , the village. Paths, the town squares. As if time didn’t happen here in the land of the olive trees. I have returned home here in the USA .

Wandering on my personal journey all these years . Were they a dream? A wish? A reality?