Poetry from Nicholas Gore

Photo by Paul Green

What Fools May Dream

I’ve followed this trail of footprints
and retraced my steps through the snow.
A recurring dream that has fallen as I
slept each night before.

I may be as much of a fool as anyone
who dares trust the night remain outside,
though it often lifts open my unlatched windows
and slips past the wispy curtains, silently
rolling over the sills and into my bedroom.

In my dreams, the ocean speaks a language
only I can understand.
Our conversations always lead to an argument
about which continent feels more like home.

I walk up and down the shores looking
for glass bottles which contain the messages
from stranded survivors
who’ve learned how to weaponize nature.

They believe forests are actually rifles and
rockets aimed at clouds.
Their angled shadows reaching for noon.
The leaves ready to launch and burst
like laughter between old friends,
slowly floating down like ash,
coating the sidewalks, driveways, and roofs.

This is how the fool will always find his way home.
.

.

Nicholas Gore is a writer and 11-year U.S. Navy veteran living in Bowie, Maryland. His poetry has previously been published in the Applause Literary Journal.

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