I am a sand sifter
A mountain top metal detector with quiet shoes
A fly caster
Comet thrower
And spitter of flames in deoxygenated rooms

I am time once sighted
Tree tops withering in the slow sun growth
And a mere stone’s throw away from diving into the waters called home

I am the feeling of being betwixt despair and hope
As if all true sand sifting shifters know
We just go, and by nights’ allure continually comb

And a comber kicks nothing without a rake