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Directions through a Changing Scene
You will pass a field where corn scratches sky each wind. Back when fin meant car not shark nearby beaches began to resort for the money farmer and fish once brought. Dunes mean motel now, so keep going until you see sand then turn left. On your right is a park where lions guard the gates roaring louder than stone. Across from them is a tree knocked down by storm, named after a woman, jealous of birch. Then you will enter a town built by whale chased by fishermen for months until each man cursed ship and prayed for what was ever warm on land. After passing the diner where eggs sizzle the sun up every morning turn on to the road that goes through a tunnel of tree its roof made of branch and leaf and patched with cloud. Keep traveling through until you run out of oak, then when sky breaks open my house is on the left sitting in shade if noon is on time. But if you believe in water travel on until you reach ocean and watch waves crash with enough faith to convince anyone that you can always turn around and go home the way you came.