Searching for the spot
the place -- like goldilock's chair --
where it just feels right.
Waves may come and go
and seem stuck in the same tide
but they leave the shore.
The hummingbird floats
supping from the flower's cup
but not for too long.
Wandering gypsy,
won't you stay awhile for me
to pack my things, too?
The wind keeps sweeping,
carrying voices that call
beckoning me on ...