On This Front Porch: Musings on Ireland

On this front porch, most days,

I can see all the way to Ireland.

I see tall mounts with green forests

Of trees planted by the Master's Hand.

On this front porch, most days,

I feel the fresh breezes on my face,

Close my eyes and breathe in

The History of the People.

On this front porch, most days,

I hear the Stories of Ages,

Transported by the salty air  

Over dark pebbly beaches.

On this front porch, I hear Him,

Telling me that I am Home Now,

That this patch of His Earth is

Precisely what He designed for me.

I no longer spend days and years 

Pining for the Irish Homeland.

When I step out on this front porch,

I am there again and all is well.