Friday, August 7, 2009


Swathe in the tenor
of the living air . . .


sconced in their
supple songs. Bright kernels.

Happy hills, collared by clouds
splaying sprinkles of gold
across the sea above,

Stem our Hearts

in the Chrysalis - the bud
between sunrise and our dream.
Shore the surf
In a merry scamper,

waves wading, the crisp chortle

of the sands.

No comments: