Monday, 13 August 2018

midnight imagining the dawn

dock pier gulls riding tide and wheeling,
upon a morning mist’s goldmine;
that undresses, ever so slowly, 
velvet down and brightly flowing,
to caress the trees, and along meadows,
so delicately in flagrante kissing
all the delicto grass plans of days. 

or sat high above the deep swim,
the sun so waters my wandering eyes,
that i drift away into the clouds,
to saunter along horizon way; and
in this cove beneath the headland,
all is mightily fine, and i stay my stay.

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