The perilous journey of monarchs
comes every four generations.
Driven by some response to the slant
of the sun–some peril in the air–
they strive against the miles
to sojourn in their southern Goshen.
Like the families who pile their kids
into RVs and vans and drive away
from the crumbling edges of the world
towards the center,
in search of rolling hills,
white-steepled churches, and verdant valleys
in hopes that the David generation–
full of conflict and bloodshed–
will give way to peaceful Solomon:
philosopher, poet, builder of temples.