Dawn in Avalon

by Katherine Goldblatt

A contraption decorated with gold plating 

hovers briefly above our boat, brilliant to 

our bashful blinking. The waves are copper; 

the sky, vermillion and peach, out of reach 

of our outstretched hands, slinking into 

shadows and back to the sun, but not 

grasping or holding the prize we see through 

our bashful blinking. No lands are conquered 

from our expeditions. We only seek to 

broaden our horizons and sail straight to 

them. Despite our bashful blinking, the 

future is mapped, inked, and signed for. 

And though we seek the tangible tranquility, 

we are only met with bashful blinking. But 

even this is a triumph. For who else views 

this contraption with gold plating but us? 

We are the chosen ones. Blessed may 

we be, bashful and blinking.