Distant Shores
the road travelled like a momentous mountain,
the end game on its peak of distant shores.
a matrix of bubblegum ready to drop with coins
or a complex crazy quilt with lazy and diligent dyes.
a wheatfield that traverses the plains and hushes
introspection in its youth and snatches heads
in its short short time left on earth, breaking bread.
the fruit like vines hang onto the wrinkled cliffs.
a small boat in the waxing ocean waves, alone at last,
neither lauded nor drowned...what is is...salt on tongue,
the port on the silvered horizon. An anchor and rope leans
like a sailor approaching home with a resurrected smile.
6/17/2018
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