The porch light shines brighter than the North Star.

It is like a beam from a lighthouse,

Guiding the figure home.

The smell of the woodstove

Fills the cold night air.

And thoughts of a warm meal simmering on the stove,

Quickens the figure's steps.

His heavy burden grows lighter,

As every step brings him closer to home.

As his long journey comes to an end,

His mind is lulled by the sweet music of the night.

The wind whispers to the tree tops,

Like two children with a secret.

And the crickets sing sweet lullabies,

For those who care to listen.

When once he walked carrying the world,

Now his gait is as light as a feather.

The light beckons and urges the wanderer home.