Harbour of Another Kind                                          October 2022    Digital Pencil

​

Hinted by the moon in one last October night, gliding there in winged bite, flew creatures only recognized by those who live outside the light, beyond the blinding sun. Figures with fangs, studious eyes, thick, soft hair, and a salty stench sing circling my mortal shipwreck, skimming the beach for limpits, and floating fish. I wring out my legs and walk the mile where nobody who knows where it goes would walk. I'm followed overhead and stumbling over my feet. At home my stiff hands never thaw, sitting by an empty fire. For once you visit another kind nothing is the same. There they are every time you look, and never again will you sense a flame.