Peru

From silken ropes and dusted stars,
A web of constellations glow,
And though they seem so very far,
A beach road craft for Pisco bars,
Each light I now admit to know,

The brightest north, assumes the crown,
Of velvet rush and crimson rise,
With golden stone reversing frown,
And hills that roll forever down,
A city brings its own demise,

And stowed away beneath some hill,
And nestled deep into the sky,
Awaits a flowered windowsill,
With mouths to feed and time to kill,
And a sun-baked stucco alibi,

I’ve come from land and open sea,
To find that, very much at home,
I’m blinded by a symphony,
That picks apart and swallows me,
Until I grant it’s right to roam