Photo Poetry: For Week Two

A LEADER TO FOLLOW 

I cling to skyward dreams

Transparent, shining, new

As spruce-scent, and it seems

I’m clinging most to you.

 

And if you ever ask me why,

I’ll say “You’re pointing to the sky.”

 

(Note that I do not cling alone.

You point to sky.  You point to home.)

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