The Vagabond Poet
The dark and billowing clouds
Drift gently from the sea
And the salty air and ocean sounds
Surround my lonely Cypress tree.
It is a song to the senses
And a dance in the sky
But the song has no words
So I hum this Lullaby.
I hear the sound of Gulls
And watch the thunderous waves
Move the sand in abstract patterns
Resembling muted graves.
The sandpiper is on the hunt
But the sand-crab, she is gone,
She slipped beneath the sand
To find a life that lingers on.
But I do not see the vagabond poet
That spoke of life and things unknown
The one who wrote his poems in sand
Hoping one would turn to stone.
D. Thurmond / JE Falcon
05-02-2019
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