i

half-hexagonal shape
of collected stones
walling the shore

flapless flight, a
white-belied eagle
spread against hill  

brass lock gate,
a dark morning
to high tide din

gulls fish diving
arrows at twilight,
star-mobbed night

ii

waves swish above,
whip us a few feet,
push, crash, beat

perched on a rock,
soft airborne feet
part water again

an early morning
climb up a cliff,
as far as eyes

can see, the
endless hazy
ruptures of sea

iii

little fire with
wet matchsticks,
coconut husk,

scrap wood,
twigs, winter
grass residue

a confetti of
tales at tea,
she, he, me

quieter in our
rooms at dusk,
again adrift

iv

I sum up my
habits, their
relentless

obstinate
shore lash,
wasted years

here, once
aside from
the crowd

consider
my islands,
my inner seas

v  

how demonic
to confront
oneself, for

once, let it be,
a calmness
settles like

residue, and
though youth
fades every

moment, I may
yet foray again,
again to meet

myself on a
salt breeze morn,
the tide, the beach