Three for the Price of one.

1.Spring has sprung.
Even on the equator the birds are flying in pairs, the iguanas have come out of the trees in hordes, the breeze is blowing fresh seasons north and the earth is quiet (at least at Latitude, 7°08′0 N. • Longitude, 73°08′ W) on a Monday holiday afternoon.
2.Listen to me
Listen to me like you are hungry
Like the words I say can fill you
Nourish and sustain you.
3.I have been away too long and with each seed I planted
I grew further
It is neither the seeds nor the plants that they will become
or the fruit they will bear
That keeps me searching for new soil.
It is the running from as much as running toward that has kept my wheels spinning
And like a locomotive I keep burning through my fuel
Speeding toward a destination just to chase my tracks back again with the same feverish desperation.
Once the tracks are laid the train never goes anywhere
Not anywhere that hasn’t already been laid out.
Will I forever be racing to get to some place else?
Whether on the same tracks or not, never really being anywhere
Always trapped by the rails
With the illusion of travel
And the illusion of distance
But ignorant of the fact that my wheels are still spinning the same track again and again.

Will there a time when I hill hope off at a station? Take my luggage off the rack or will I let it speed away behind me.
Will I settle for a little village built around a crumbling railroad station?
Will I eat crepes and escargot?
Drink wine and succulent mussels?
Or will I forever wave from the back of the caboose at all the places I could have called home while I hungrily feed coal on the fire propelling me forward
into the future.
Can I derail the train or hop off?
Are these truly the same tracks I have ridden before or is there another direction.
Where is my station call and my welcoming committee?