A ship in harbor is safe, but
that’s not why ships are built.



Trees provide solace
from sun and storm,
returning me home to harbor
safe in their sheltering arms.

What keeps me up at night
visits in my dreams
with one and the same yearning.

To ski fast straight down
fresh and alive,
to take the trail
just up and over the next hill,
to go back, yes,
but not yet,
not yet.

A freezing fog has settled
over everything
including me.
My spruce is laden with
crystallized needles
of rime ice
coating every limb,

But it would be dangerous
to set forth in motion
this rime coated ship,
these ice sheathed wings.
In time, the sun will melt these things
and send me out once more out
through wind, sea and sky.

When that day arrives
I will be ready!


Fortune Cookie Poems Copyright © 2022 by Stephanie Mirocha. All Rights Reserved.