Away from my loves tonight, I am holed up in a fine New York City hotel room. A quick and fine work junket, and I love the City, but I am pining. 

A poem by my grandmother about setting sails for home. Love.

Gay little ship with sails all set,
Sturdy and trim to me you seem for sailing--
But I am your builder, captain, master, mate,
I cannot see the loosened planks that others find.
Full-rigged, untried, my little Spanish galleon,
Go forth to sea, to test your snowy sails.
If you shall find the storms are wildly raging,
You have no harbor whither you may flee,
Come, little ship, with flag upheld, undaunted,
Back to your shelter--sail back home to me.
Oh, for loves who are unperturbed by my loosened planks. You are my blessed shelter. I will be home soon.