Peachy contours with subtle donning
Of weightless snow drifts
Tracing the gentle curl as
The violent crash emits
With the solid intensity in dutiful purpose
Meandering it’s way through a hum
Without attempt to create solitude

With equal amounts of sifted grain
A reflection appears, grazing over
Each aspect of the expected self
One must merge with the tide
To remove themselves with the present
To arise from the hearth where
The roots bind one to the expectations
Of the measured day

To sprout wind currents and dance in light
Bemusing the shallow redness that arises on
The palms of those who ask too much
A cramped grammar this is to tell and be told
With silvery sinew that loosens the joints of time
Allowing the ebb to push you out
Of the past and into the
Malleable starch of the future