26 Jan Taunt of the Horizon
Posted at 13:28h
in Poems
Under the glory of understory,
A shadow had ran and leapt:
I am the coyote who crept
On the road the sun had set
Where my destination lied,
Stretched by horizon bare —
Ithaca appears not yet there,
Not yet, my heart, not yet.
Cold marsh made a labyrinth
And something stirs out of view,
Sawgrass hides a thing or two
So I cannot frolic in the wet,
Afar from my mortal realm
Lost to world, the world to me
A troubled wind upon the lee
Recall my weakest not yet.