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Treaty Beach
There was a passing thought -
once a bright idea,
that lead to passing ruin,
akin to falling stars.
What had been real was processed
from flesh to muddied tin.
The stale of air in atmosphere
gave rise to their alarm.
He trails aloft in consciousness
and recites his efforts past.
Amidst the shallow, local river
he hears a sense be made.
Grasping for one solid, stable
base on which to cling for life,
he subjects himself to the waving,
lucid trembling force of the word.
He finds his landing beside a lake,
among those he knows best.
