on anchors

When death bows

Growing older by the hour

The stick it had carried for so long became a sword

Accompanied by thorned, spires, weeds from the dragging 

Before their time was brought to court

Jealous truths made 

Honeyed lips of of liars 

Brought deserts to trade

Signs of days ancient

Are the shepard sailor angels 

In field or flourish 

Judges in cotton, corn

The dirt graves already worn

Anchors buried

By love left behind