To Get To You

House of Heart

The sun is slipping down the horizon. An echelon of wild geese gather above so I follow grey wings into the storm.

My arms are branches and you are
my nourishment
cut me down to a boat.
My spine a sturdy keel , my hair
unfurled sails. A distant lighthouse my only lamp for you hold the stars in your hand.
If sails are cast into a cleft too deep  for me to cross, I was trying to get to you.

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