Wish I, a ghostly cave of conch, to be;
Ocean's tongue held 'twixt a salty conquest.
Or pant through woods in breathless cervine* flee
A tinkle's leap rainbowed at wind's behest
Might I dream a boat moored to drifts vacant
Desultory songs to fill a sail's clear throat
Or bloom mystical on a range ancient
A spirit's seek within a life's devote
Suffer I would the lonely flight of soar
An eagle's stoic, an airless crag's embrace
Shall I, or, weave a valley flute's contour
To trouble the passions of mountains chaste?
Silver shadows of whim I hold to flesh
To vanish into, or live life afresh
*cervine: adj. Relating to, resembling, or characteristic of deer.