Adventurer

Some mornings 
it’s whistle 
sometimes horn
calling me 
to come 
to emerge 
from sleeps
fog to 
make way 
to think 
and let
come words
back to 
port plump
with riches
treasures and 
sweet spice 
and I
will tell 
of journeys 
far away 
places and 
of people 
and they
will call 
me adventurer