Driftwood

   the feel of the world’s chaos,

 a distant serene violence, 

 like the grocery cart

with a wobbling wheel, 

rotating, off-kilter.

.

 grasping for the bowline

i struggle to draw the skiff

toward the smooth gray horizon,

as you tenderly pry the twine

from my knotted grip.

.

nested 

in the crook of your wing,

 my striving is submerged

in a gentle rhythm

 as the boat glides.

.

the Soul knows 

its course.

.

© M.G. Iannucci 2017

Photo: Sunrise on Yellowstone Lake

4 thoughts on “Driftwood

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