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.
Structure
39 lines · 2 stanzas