Thursday, December 10, 2009

i cannot make amends,
a stranger to this shore;
what's strange in mountain lands
is stranger on the shore

the moon is ice on ice
still colder in the dawn
the ocean's hiss defends
no stranger on its shore

if any passage swerves
it seems to find no term
i know this passage ends
though stranger with its shore

those who leave it write
the melancholy scroll
in time the rhyme descends
a stranger on that shore

Graywyvern cocks an eye
at trees of flame and finery;
the season understands,
stranger, too, to this shore