This Land (poem)

This Land

Off and away
this land of mine
lost to a culture
different on my tongue
and mind—

—this sun feels different
than that at home:
still warm, but colder
darker in the daylight
like winter still
bone-chilling to the point
of disappearing

How am I to be warm
when promises of sun
and palm trees taunt me
from afar? This land,
still unknown to me, so foreign
and lost, why, is this land of mine
so cold?

— The Finicky Cynic

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