New Found Land

To Arcadia, to Giverny,
Fontainebleau, or Arles;
To Brittany, or Fiji,
The Marquesas, or Morocco;
To Maine, the Hudson, or Cape Cod,
Truro or the Hamptons call . . .
Perhaps to Mexico,
Columbia, or Yosemite,
To the distant-most outlandish
Place, keep a bowl of soup,
A glass of wine, a Key West
Of the heart and mind,
Where art can grow on half
The cost, and half again,
Or less than that.
Or better still a newfound land,
A sandbar off Belize
Or Cannes, to while away, to paint,
To plan, the art utopia
No one can achieve in life,
But hanging dreams of it export
The beauty to which all resort.

John Sevcik