I am tall - though not tall enough to see beyond the trees.
I hear screeching gulls but are they mere Sirens?
I smell and taste salt on the breeze. Does the ocean pulse?
Cradling my head, I wonder.

The red dress hangs, still.
Awaiting your form and flesh -
A matador's swish.

The osprey
plunges

an unerring
spear

with
atlatl instinct.

Talons
slice surf

a
loch picked

of
thrashing rainbows

Icarus’
folly eclipsed.

...you're a slippery fish;
a swirling rainbow
beyond hook and line.

Dodge well and
weave with perfection.

Rolling sky like,
the grey and blue pushchair
became a cloud.

Odes, condensed milk;
Reduced, sweetened brevity.

You are like bed sheets flapping in the wind;
Snap happy giggles alive with the thrum of Summer.