Nomads

Look between
dark branches at the                                                            
pearl gray window
opening on the eternal.
Sadness and soft
defeat rest lightly at
the throat.

Try to summon, as perhaps
Jonah did, the comforts of
of memory even in
the vast dark
belly of a whale.

Swirling among mudlike
krill are things,
sodden dolls, broken
wooden oars
who measure life
as usefulness.

You still carry the earth's
ancient air inside.
Their words, your dreams
keep walking friend,
keep  walking.