Dusk across a severed sea
Immortal tones impaling me,
Dulcet grey striated lines
Across horizon’s luscious wines,
Of setting sun in huge refrain
Melting into falling rain.
Exulting in this feel of brine
A-washing curling toes of mine,
This gentle wash on seashell shore
As wavelets surge in even score,
A symphony of tidal sound,
Enveloping in sense-surround.
And chorusing from arrowed flight
Of seabirds, overhead, As night
Advances with a first stars’ hue,
Imbued with velvet dreams of you.

M.
Morocco
May 1967