Tangled Up in Blue

Tangled Up in Blue

As tangled driftwood barring up a stream

Against our struggling oars when hope is high

To reach some fair green island we descry

Lying beyond us in the morning’s gleam,

And shimmering like a landscape in a dream –

Yet waiting patiently the logs float by,

And all our course lies open to the eye –

So sorrows come and go. What though they seem

A blight whose touch might turn a young head gray,

Joy dawns again. Hope beckons us before.

The tide that pressed against us breaks our bars;

The visionary islands smile once more.

Life, with its rest by night, its work by day,

Forgets the old griefs, and heals their deepest scars.

Sonnet XXVIII. Past Sorrows . Christopher Pearse Cranch.

Photo taken at Driftwood Beach, Amelia Island, Florida, October 2014