Driftwood Journey
sinewy flute
salted and stout,
your keys and stops
squatted by meek shells,
once a bough,
now brined in waves,
some gust ripped you
off a nurturant cliff,
christened you flotsam.
it adventured you, forged you
bolder than birch bark,
miniature kayak,
wrestler of fierce seas,
of frothy manes,
such lions, serpents,
and tossing hydras,
you rode indefatigable,
lost, wizened and raw,
until a whispery sheen
slithered beneath you,
to once more establish
the earthen world.
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