Forgetting the glances,
the long dark drift
of glistening dewy webs
spread in the misty dawn

Sound as thin as air
Soft, like filmy frost
that rimes the windows
on icy mornings

A tune as quiet as breathing
labyrinths of colour
without landfall
or metaphor

Letting go
to idle and float
From the surf sea sands
Into the fathomless ocean

No strut or clasp
but in its place,
the soul can rise
in all the washing wonder of the world