See the 

World below,

Drift away 

Without effort,

Take flight 

Into blue,

Skies gilded 

Silver and white,

Backlit by a 

Golden sun.

Not every poem,

Will glitter and sparkle so –

No matter how much,

You polish or cut away,

Some will be rough and tumble.

Flying through the air,
Only to land once again,
On this earthly plane.
Does flight feel this free for birds?
Is this their everyday bore?

Too long has it been,
Since these halls heard our laughter,
Amazing delight!
Woe is my sprint back homeward
As the sun sets to the West.

May your packs be light,
Your trails green and hazard free,
Be your weather fair!
I sing, “Goodbye my friend!” with
Raised glasses and raised spirits.

Alone in this world,
I set forth on my journey.
Let the trumpets sound!
Let the percussionist play!
I will rise to meet this storm.

Approaching our gate
Surcoat lined in silver swirls
This dark traveler,
A stranger to Summer Courts
With arms open, welcome him!

I yearn for a hearth
Where my travel shoes can hang
My feet up and warm
But I must remind myself
That even hearth flames ember