My new found land,
Here it shall rain a little every day,
enough to see the blossoms rise
and set the sweet tone of afternoon sky
Tides shall rise and fall,
telling a story of sweet fleshed
and wry. Salt laved skin we shall
rise from the water aflame with beauty.
Blessed by Galene herself.
Here in my new found land
appointed hours reside for food and wine
for laughter and tears, for sex and death.
It rises with the new year, resolute,
born of resolutions made.