Through their hair
Destinations
Across the Sound
Anticipation
Swimming, hiking
Lakes and ocean
Forests, sunshine
Family camping
The summer adventures
Of carefree youth
So too the beauty of the world
Its colour makes it vibrant
And lacking subtle textures
Diminishes its glory
Sun ring complementing
The line of her departure
In retreat she makes
Some small rippling wake
Much like the sun
As it dips below horizon
The world left behind
Settles into darkness
Isolated
No ferry stops
No bridge to cross
Too cold to swim
So stranded here
In my beliefs
While rowboats rock
Tied up to dock
It’s lingered there
As long as I remember
While the horizon calls to me
Gawd
I love
A ferry
The magic carpet
Of roadtrips
Being there
Or the
Being away
Or the
Being in motion
Which defines the true nature
Of my wanderlust
I usually decide
There’s no need
To pick one
Not clinging
Preparing
To leap
Some with regret
And, some, disdain
Though most with neither
This nor that
I think not
Of the world I’m in
The present
Not this very day
But all the worlds
I’ve yet to see
Which will also
Fall behind
Landing on an Island
Is always like
The quiet moment alone
In the living room
Just as the fridge turns off