home in me

the story is writing itself, with every movement that takes place
when the horse gallops or  a wing gently waves, when the grass sways from
the travelling wind or when the hem of my skirt gets shortened.

i am at home here more than any where before. i am shedding.
why is it one always tells another when the other moves away
you can re invent yourself for i belive it is the opposite it is when
what has already been invented finally appears, it is where one goes
 to finally come home.