Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Whole of the Bay

Leaf and kettle wait.
The jewel of the grove,
growing slim and tall,
harvests at last a silver flower.

Sunrays lance between cedars
in adamantine glimmers of mist.
The boughs scrape the light
into peals of gullcry and wavepound.

On the edge of the granite cliffs
a sea-shaped juniper leaps.
Sky clings to seamist and rock,
a harbinger of tide and time.

What stands on the shore,
nests of the harbor, the hawk, the grace
of dive through air and light,
to scrape from the wind, at last, a life, a life.

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