The 12th House

May 6, 2016

The next traveller to visit
Is by far the oldest, wisest;
His key made of white stone
(Not iron) and mossy bloom.

What most notice first
About him are the gills,
They widen and narrow
With each labored breath.

He rises again in spring with
The freshly melted snow,
But each time he also weeps
For those he could not save.

By April, he is gone; returned
To the sea where he was born.