They See Land

Once upon a time he wanted

and longed for and searched more

picking his bones

scratching his snout

for an excuse to shout

a concotion of eyes on him

a recipe for his own dismissal.

Once he poked a stick

bruises and pains did stick

knocking them into wicked snow

cold shoulder grows 

drifting him out on ice he cut himself

waters too cold for a redeeming swim to shore.

They stay inside

they don't return or come out

so when he may shout

tears stream cold on his unheard cries

drowning the repetition

and building wolves a packboat.

They see land.

They all see the land now.