He looks up at what pierces cloud, <br />but doesn’t know it’s epiphany— <br />this moment wind blows over sea <br />and dark’s forgiven in its tracks. <br /> <br />He sees the field a boy once ploughed, <br />nostrils piqued by blossoming flax, <br />and thinks the questions no one asks, <br />eyes mirroring eternity. <br /> <br />Beyond the headland waves break loud. <br />Once again Boreas smacks <br />his pale and hypothermic lips. <br /> <br />Summer suddenly turns to Fall. <br />Behind him now the sunken ships <br />will never take him home at all.<br /><br />Leo Yankevich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/exile-7/
