Luggage and Heart

The season has sauntered in expected;
time has come for that familiar song:
what will I leave behind for winter?
I inventory what to take along

Only yesterday, it seems, the daydreams,
were vague and wistful, tentative and light.
I had both endured and savored winter,
when geese and songbirds took their annual flight.

Maybe, I thought, some day among the palm trees,
I'll enjoy the beach or view the bay.
I'll take along summer garb and trappings.
Now, here I am, looking at the day.

It's like going home, yet unfamiliar,
as I seriously contemplate the move.
Thankful the same Father's eyes are on me,
to guard and guide in His faithful love.

Surroundings, familiar, I'll adapt to,
anticipate, choose, and then join in.
Picking up my old ways as I'm apt to
expectations set aside, begin.

In ways I only vaguely dreamed of,
watching geese their annual passing by,
I'll set to preparing heart and luggage,
and I, too, will rise aloft and fly.