If home were where the heart is

There are days
when I miss the islands so much
I can hardly breathe:
the sharp edges of the cliff,
the lithe curve of the madronas,
the way the sea licks the shore
and returns, again and again,
for more...
Like the sea, it seems,
I can never quite get enough.
And what is enough, anyway?
Isn't enough when home is planted
so deeply in your heart
that you always know you can return;
be there,
no matter where you are?