at journeys end

at journeys end
you wonder about
the reasons
that caused you to fly away
in such a hurry
as if you were fleeing from some loathsome task
anxious to put it at your back
seeking peace, higher ground and greener pasture

now the pendulum has swung in it’s full arc
and you count the reasons why it’s good to be home
all the pleasant things that have happened in your life
since you landed here between the mountains and the placid ocean
after jet and the wicked tropo
and you realize that time has slowed down
in the blue light spectrum
after time had sped by in the red

you awake to find the brooding threat of winter has passed
storm clouds and dark days
no longer part of every waking moment
threatening to decapitate the horizon with razor winds
from the frozen north
heavy coats and other armor hang unused in the closets
waiting to be hidden away
ashamed
as if you didn’t own them
and yet you know them well

sitting on a park bench in the warming spring sun
a cascade of pink rain fell upon your face and hair
cherry blossoms falling away from the stem as the north wind shifts to the west
the petals soft and sweet to the taste
your lover has been crowned with a halo of scented crushed velvet
your mind darts back to the day you married
and she wore a veil of fragrant flowers
that filled her hair
and she looked at you with such love today
her eyes
beset with a reflection of rose diamonds

the same vagrant breeze
blew through the window as you wrote
her a love song
lifting a curtains hem across the strings of your guitar
to strum a lilting tune
without measure or chord
as if nature had her own way of expressing herself musically
that set your mind in motion
such whimsy is so rare
that it captured your heart

at journeys end you find that your accidental plum tree has bloomed
the one that had grown magically
as if resurrected
you husband her with gentle touch
for she lacks a natural mate
there’s a stranger outside the gate
that will do
and as you introduce the pollen to the flying bee’s
who will cause the tree to bear fruit in the fall
you hear her sigh
‘ooooooooooooo’
like a virgin at your touch
the signal of your passing once again
through this cycle
into the next

you will in time
fear what is sure to come
sweeping south from the arctic
with a sharp winters scythe
ready yourself to fly
you are the object of it’s frozen capture

once again you seek
the object of your desire
a journeys end
so that you may sing again of your freedom
while the wind strums your guitar
that lilting song
the meter of your heart