**
It’s the heat that hits you second
and the sun that hits you third or fourth,
but first there comes that condensation,
greeting planes in from the north.
It’s not on every inbound flight,
and surely it’s not only here,
but something with the misting vents
welcomes you back from far to near.
Later, when you’ve cleared the gate
and walked that shiny gray-toned floor,
it’s grackles, grackles by the hundreds,
raucous locals out the door.
A call’s within these habits,
within the rites of touching down,
and since we’re often not from here,
it tells us we’re not of this town.
But then again, within the habits,
in the rites of each return,
there’s more than just first visit’s echo:
There’s a city we’ve now learned.
The buildings and the weaving roads
may change by months and weeks and days.
Still, throughlines from the sweetest pasts
pull us homeward from aways.
**
🥰