I’ve never studied
What the Poets say
Nor worried much
How they place their words
Or why that way
I do not know
How to write a sonnet
I am not sure
What makes pentameter
Iambic
I hope that’s OK
No need for
Destination
No need
To have a plan
Not yet
But scan
Horizons
For potential
For places I’d like
To get
Overwhelmed
As they are
By the inexplicable
So I settle in
Allow the divine
To speak for itself
No matter how many times
I look into myself
Listen to my spirit
I find someone new
I remind myself
These are all
Acts of creation
Rather than discovery
Let nature speak
The last act
Of a once reticent sun
This vibrant glimmer
This display of possibility
Another
Another
Another
How many layers deep?
I see only the next
Unpack another
See another
Unpack
Another
Until I don’t want
To see anymore
Unpack anymore
Dig anymore
Intentional purpose
Inexorable decay
Dynamic tension
Eternally entwined
The sky
like a distant hope
The sea
is my rolling pain
The land
oh, it anchors soul
And I
hold the sky
Let the pain
roll away
Heel to land
find my soul
Pix to Words 