Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Prisoner of the Sea



An Island home is a prison
Locked in by water on every side.
You can only run the length of the road,
Or as far as the island is wide.

I am learning it's not the water,
Possessing the jailer’s key.
Lately, I have met the warden.
He lives deep inside of me.

I have morphed into one of the locals
Facing the daily, relentless wind,
One who vows to continue thriving
Despite long winters without end.

It is the Rye Grass in the sunrise,
Beach footprints of several deer,
The bluffs and the rolling prairie,
Imprisoning me still here. 

Kingfishers, seals and often a whale,
Crocus sprouting through a spring hail:
Keys to the lock that will not fail
My peace; this incredible jail.




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