Nostalgia

Fall arrives suddenly
With a brisk morning and a blue sky
So clear it seems fragile;
And with it gut-fulls of memories 
I didn't know I still carried
From a previous life of mine:
a déjà vu flood of anticipation-- for what?, I wonder --
My affection for walking on new England's hurried streets, 
The sound of Haydn's string quartets,
And the taste of pumpkin spice lattes.
But this morning, I watch from my hill 
As the sun climbs
Over the nearby blocks:
Mechanical mover men, sleeping houses,
Silent streets and the song of homecoming birds on my back yard tree--
And I wonder how it is possible to be so grateful for home,
That your heart yearns
for the very present that you are already in.