The Irony Of Immense Sunlight On A Dead-End Highway

A few words on the otherwise
Empty slate remind me of,

A forest mortally burned,
The flight of useless animals

Ghosts who don’t leave tracks
In the snow,
The swift panther who does for them,

A highway on a flat and burnished sea,
Heading from Homestead south to the
Limestone shelves,

A tortoise in a long and eerie wave,

An albatross approaching pale thunderheads,

A gravestone in an otherwise empty field,
A lonely soldier,
But dear enough to remember;

Of how far away you are,
That you don’t care how often I misspell a few
Love letters,

The irony of immense sunlight on
A dead-end highway
Which might have once led home.