there, where the mist grows thin,
a golden prow bobs upon the swells
its bright blue sails point
valiantly beyond solid cloud walls
toward ancient sunlit shores
and there, inside the rising fog,
the spokes of its tall red wheels gleam
in momentary sunbreak
it treks across the miles of high plains
through virgin forests, herds of buffalo
and howling blizzards
the mists close in and yet again, part,
a little boy with handmade wooden rifle
chases through the garden gate,
past white picket fence
following the scent, closing in
on lumbering brown grizzly
and silvery grey wolves
hearing the calliope
beyond the reach, before the fog
of grownup ears and eyes
the children
uncover buried treasure chests
ride the purple unicorn
and feast
upon the shimmering
milk of stars
-pb © 2013
a golden prow bobs upon the swells
its bright blue sails point
valiantly beyond solid cloud walls
toward ancient sunlit shores
and there, inside the rising fog,
the spokes of its tall red wheels gleam
in momentary sunbreak
it treks across the miles of high plains
through virgin forests, herds of buffalo
and howling blizzards
the mists close in and yet again, part,
a little boy with handmade wooden rifle
chases through the garden gate,
past white picket fence
following the scent, closing in
on lumbering brown grizzly
and silvery grey wolves
hearing the calliope
beyond the reach, before the fog
of grownup ears and eyes
the children
uncover buried treasure chests
ride the purple unicorn
and feast
upon the shimmering
milk of stars
-pb © 2013
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