Written by Brady Stiff
My crew, my dearest crew, their footprints mark evanesce in fallen snow
as they round up the rigging & rouse up the ropes
our hopes billowing with the sails.
I am at the helm, shrouded in a leaden coat & shoes
too fat for chasing. Waves
splashing against my hull. Hue of white
a fine dusting like flour layering on logs and masts and rails
from the cloud soaked sky. We could carve forever
a path through this ice strewn ocean.
I watch my crew watch
a billion fairies of white specks
and an archway Aurora, a Borealis bow arc
through the gray sky. Opalescent white unsaturates
blue leathers and brown boots. All is pale here
across the wide and gray and faded blue.
Of all these the monuments we have seen, perhaps they cannot
compare to this the vastness before us,
so full of what can be.
Text © Brady Stiff
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