Somewhere


We’re all traveling somewhere,

but it’s not until you the let the current

 move your soul, not just your feet, that you see the

way the water ripples, the way the sun spreads it’s light,

you see the space that you’ll fit

in the nook just up ahead,

under lavender, lost leaves.

And it’s a silly, foolish, thing,

to think the roiling waters wrong,

when you’re swallowed whole at night

and left breathless, ashore,

at dawn.

Image Credit

Tricia Sankey

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