This place I love's my destination:

A town with little population

But without too much isolation.

I'll rest beneath sky's dome.

Can’t stop my hearts acceleration!

Of slowing it shows no indication.

I simply cannot resist temptation

To find my way back Home.

There’s trouble these days, both in distant lands,
And here at home on every hand;
From the mountains to the ocean strand,
It’s never hard to find:

The king is away in a foreign war,
A crack runs through my own front door,
My neighbor has lost his finest boar,
And my cows have not come home.

A rowboat sank in the village pond,
And three of the king’s best ships are gone;
My tone-deaf aunt composed a song
And asked my mother to sing.

The sea is sad and gray, my friends,
It greets me with a tear;
Its mournful company it lends,
For nearly half a year.

Aboard this ship I stay, my friends,
Save for the days at dock;
How many hours on land depends:
I have to watch the clock.

The waves do sadly roll, my friends,
Each laps a lonely tongue;
The misty air – its raining wrends
A thousand songs, unsung.

Away from sea, below, my friends,
I learn about the ship,
And trace the power the engine sends;
I know which switch to flip.

home is a hard thing
to find
a soft place
to fall into
a dream
like a cloud in the sky
white on blue
where the sun shines through
to my heart
as it winds its way
over the landscape
of this sojourn
unwinds its strings
seventy times seven
moves on again
driven to a
home, a safe place
to land
a promise
of belonging
to give you a name
and a strength at your back
like the wind
on the mountaintop
drives you until
you fall into that place

In English, the dictionary contains nine different definitions for the noun “home.” Number one, “A place where one lives; residence” best fits people’s idea of home today (American Heritage, 407). Millions of Americans move every year. Houses serve mainly as investments and very temporary residences instead of the core of a family. My family lived in a perfect, hundred year old farmhouse for 15 years and never once did we move.

I'm home because,I have a loving family.
I'm home because,I have wonderful friends.
I'm home because,God is merciful to me.
And because his love never ends.

They tore down the trees today. I stood in the muddy street and stared in horror at the carnage before me. The pine trees lay in a disgraced heap, stripped of their bark and their dignity. Young saplings had been uprooted and tossed aside casually. The ground now held nothing more than a sea of torn clay. A trickle of water ran from the ditch down the road, carrying bits of leaves and debris along with it. My mother suggested that a water pipe had accidentally been opened. I rather think that the land was crying.

In 2004, the regional television channel Turner South produced a very well-done series of commercials with the theme of “My South.” Southerners were invited to audition for a chance to introduce themselves on television and explain what made the south special to them. The resulting cast of characters ranged from teenagers to octogenerians, city dwellers to good ol’ backcountry folk, grit eaters to grit haters - but their tributes to the south were all equally heartfelt.