Clouds below roiled in waves like the truth -
convoluted, twisted, tricky faery gifts
like caged beasts beating on the cliffs
seeking escape from my prison of youth.
That ledge on Sunday dawns long ago
was altar for musings and misgiving
where rules were made for living
and futures flowed like the river below.
Choices were made, hearts awaken;
headed downstream - life’s grand quest
followed to the coasts of southwest;
clouds still roil through dreams unshaken.
