Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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END 2012

I turn to the end, recounting
fictionís calculus slope against
movement, years beginning
long ago in Golden Gate fog
weary soldiers coming home
wishing never to return to war
idyllic days filled my green age
confidence to confront unknown
worlds, now battered blue by
my intrepidness, I seek sanctuary
refuge in the warmth of tropic night
colorful choral mornings sung by birds
basking now in anonymous light, I drift
holding a rope, emotional lifeline of hope
tenuously tied to a floating emerald boat.

c) Jan G. Otterstrom F. 2/26/2012