spattered geology
salt,
no sand
yet light
bouncing
bounding
off and on
the ever-rippled glass
pouring westward,
home

but, these days,
those,
they be made
for song-
past points
drove others mad
save,
the champion
and the headaches
to be had

so,
feast on air
infinite,
recall
rock ridden paths
breath deep
on jokes
and jabs
elegantly clad
and
dealt forth from
the Songstress
and
her fork-ed
toung-ed
friend

for we
wander
on
in style-
so brave
as some, must
proclaim-
find that
not thought for
seeking
laugh, drink
drink, smile
drink, dance

for mixed eyes,
of green varied,
dream merry
of the land
their lives
owe
debt