Migration

The ground beneath the birdfeeder 
is just a stop for the gray junco
on its pilgrimage from north to south
and back again when the weather returns.

I ask, How far north do they come from?
How far south will they go?  Is my domicile
acting as a rest area in the middle
of their journey from home to home?

I try not to ask the same questions of myself.
I may feel the migratory itch and, 
like Abraham, set off into the unfamiliar
in search of a new land of promise.