The Traveller
~ 1 ~ The sun burns orange in the western sky,It dips and disappears, and way up thereOn old Yakuuba’s toothbrush tree you sighA sweetly sorrowful pre-migration prayer.You launch into the void in search of spring,Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you strong.A vulture shrugs a valedictory wing:Au revoir, mon beau phragmite des joncs! ~ 2…