Driftwood

   by Phillip Peters

doing what it does best,
drifting with the tide,
waits for direction,
divine intervention, a
beach to find, resting on a
gravel bar at low tide,
grains of sand, galaxies, 
sailing by, wave good bye as 
they return to the 
sea, to the beginning, to
mother, there can be 
no other outcome, outflow of
life, influx of time drifts away.

A warm autumn afternoon
drizzles down to twilight, 
day curls, squirming into night,
stirs starlight into the brown
earth, reminds us, decomposing,
what we once felt, once were, 
eyes searching for answers,
questions gently covering us in
fine loam, stars shine, waiting, 
mesmerizing as the batter
bakes, sweet brown, what we leave,
grounded on a bar set too high for
eyes finding starlight and loam a 
perfect match for growing green
dreams grounded in future’s
fantasy, driftwood on a sandy bar.