Pushed prow southerly into the golden wind:
hurt the eyes: gold pelted water: so looked less far away:
plovers huddling on the tide's last piece of shore:
Rise up in brightness: clap wings::
I told myself I'll go where eagles go: if to brimstone:
my wake a narrow river back
to its source in cedar: and when sunlight embers
the shore's soft fleece will be before me.