A Poem a Day (665): Coasting

 
Coasting
 
It is enough. After the want, the hard graft,
journeying in a bid to rise, the peak of hope,
expectation, only to fall into fruitless coasting,
in secondary. Yet under a stone you may find
scope, breath, being, colour and a little faith.
 
We can walk the line without treading on it,
refresh from water without it passing our lips.
This is an imaginary earth. You sink your feet in
deep, tilt your etched heartlines to the open skies,
while the heady sun shape-shifts into quiet moon.
 
The only souls we can be are ourselves when all else
is done. Do not need. This is your space, carved out by
yourself alone. Here, we shoulder the trees, lest the
burden is too heavy for some. Clouds pass slow,
gather and eject, the sleek cirrus sounding out.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, May 8, 2024