Poet to my eyes, you are the sight of whitecaps On the sea water, or the sudden turn of a bird In flight and as the wave I roll and break, With drowning wings that lift toward you, my sky.
Mistress to my soul, I am the nave of your holy Cathedral. My head is but an occluded riff, De-noting songs you make in aisling airs of light Polyphony, my star over-sings the windy globe,
She swallows heaven, like swallows blacken the dusk. Shearwater bird, strip my surface with your cutting Wings. My waves peak to reach you starling girl.
The sloughing chill of winter dies quick in sighs Waft asunder my little Indian summer, wake me From sleep and I shall dream but once for your kiss.