Walking down a dilapidated pier
Toward an uneventful horizon
Save for a blooming cloud
Spreading its wings over the horizon.
A cool breeze blows
Pushing me back from the edge
As circles spread out like pulses
Where a boy spits in the blue.
When all directions point forward
Saving grace lies in the unfolding doom
Knowing full well home is behind me–
So much depends on a breeze and a cloud.