WITHIN REACH
Morning and the blue Pacific shakes
its white mane against the vast sparkling shore.
A sky more mixture than compound—a sun more
breath than light—gives more than it takes.
A day for a people to party and sing;
when even alien masses are welcome.
On this much-visited coast, your new income
is a dream, and a dream is everything.
The plastic water bottles dot the beach.
Discarded cellophane drifts within your reach.
If a dream is sometimes all or nothing,
then in this land of ideals, failure is king.
But now is morning in the new land, and
even failures burn to begin again.
Perry L. Powell lives near Atlanta, Georgia with a rat terrier and a black cat. His work has appeared in Cattails, Eunoia Review, eyedrum periodically, Frogpond, Presence, Prune Juice, Ribbons, The Blue Unicorn, The Heron’s Nest, The Innisfree Poetry Journal and elsewhere.
Grand Little Things 