Vast blue as far as the eye can see,
Grit beneath feet,
roaring in ears,
a gentle breeze caresses skin,
a soft cry from up above,
embraced by warmth,
a serene mood settles...
the brisk, brittle cold creeps back in.
Is it possible for a place rarely seen to be home?
Seemingly an ignorant question,
yet one undismissed.
Or is it possible to never be content,
always wishing for something different, just out of reach?
Such a dreadful thought,
however most likely.
~SS
12/28/17