Out to Sea



And the gilded morning arrived

that swept salt across her feet

and sand into her hair.

A favoring wind whispered summons

A course plotted in sea foam

pointed away from all familiar and known.

She looked away from land

away from every and any laid claims

A sharp needle for her to follow across

a rose of any color but indecision.

“When will you return” askedĀ the

live oak, the magnolia tree, the weeping feathery maple.

Her answer returnedĀ in a corked bottle

“When the wind blows me home.”

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