Tide recession, timely occasion
to groom a golden mane which
hung upon a barnacled rock, a
jutting berg above water where
but for her an Albatross be perched
in audience to a chorus of Gulls
echoing, repetitiously.

An absence of Wind O' Meters nor
a solitary sail nor tree nor cloud
nor leaf marking uneasy solitudes.
But tresses !

Still. In my observation from a
cavern where drift wood goeth,
salt sea air de misted eyes,
blinked diffusions, a vipers stare.
Idem Manequin.

A risen breeze wings watery surfs
to bubbling froths lapping splash
formations of halo's to sun kissed
auras then colouring rainbows.

A whisp' of current air, a backdraught
slipstream of Monroe Magic revealed her
defoliated midriff, where Maid met Mer
an indelible impression appeared from the
distance. A Cornucopia of Corona Roses,
budding to blossom, perfuming Spring.





12/04/2020


ps.

Sometimes in darkness one can
imagine light, vivid memories
illuminate unwanted seclusions,
bright patches between moon missed
clouds, forested fire breaks, spared
margins of blotted copybooks!

A strand of earth separating sea
from land is where I've escaped to.


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