Fire In the Sky

From his throne of molten gold
The twilight dragon rouses
To breathe white vapor.
Upon the countenance of conquerors
He gifts great ambition and grand dreams.

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Driftwood

Today, I shall be driftwood
Carried by the sea waves
And the many currents
Of travel and possibilities
And when I grow tired
I shall wash up on a fragrant beach
And bleach as white as the sands I rest upon

White Clusters

In the distance
I espy
The nodule
Tangles
Of thread-thin waves:
White clusters
Bent by stillness.