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And when night fell they came to Ithaca's bright fields . . . 
              from Emily Wilson's translation of The Odyssey

That year we lived away
our old stone house
stood in a thick thicket of green
like a fairy tale cottage
at the forest's end.

Who could argue with the beauty
of that place, full of tall trees,
talking to each other in the wind?

But not until we returned
to the west where
moon-bright fields of sage
spread wide as oceans before us
could I say this is home.