is fine here too this morning
a pinkish tinge with fluffy clouds

only I guess they ain’t fluff when you get up there
and no angels with harps sitting

for they would fall through
and fly or splat down

is like stars have no points really
is all a drawn out myth

mistake

the nicest thing about lighter evenings
is that I can lie in bed and see the big
old planes fly down the estuary and if
lucky

back inland again