I’m sailing, I’m drifting on a rusty boat in open sea heading nowhere and everywhere like birch seeds floating on the warm breath of a Vermont summer, searching for a place to land and settle, an identity to inhabit and call my own.

It’s a story I can’t get over, mine, this collection of half-finished poems full of half-hearted lines that sketch the color of my thoughts. Answers are supposed to help but the questions are quicker to rise.

Still, beneath the sail lies the redeeming oar. Grab it and propel yourself forward into the winds of opportunity, and when the storm inevitably comes as it always does ride the waves and soar above the tempests that seek to cloud the light bursting from your heart.