dusk on the boathouse at laugharne
hush
listen
listen to the ripple of a long thought
the landing of the dusk
a wing’s dust away
floating inwards on a rising tide
the plop of a fish
the blink of an eye
and it’s gone
set in a sundown
that breath
that sigh
yes he did
aye
just there
where his candlelight
waxed vast in
the moon’s slow trail
across the estuary
of his laying
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