Gales howl and waves roar

Though strong winds drive us ashore

Set sail and haul oar

Weaving fern fronds to

Elder and honeysuckle

With old melodies

Sun makes clouds make rain

Makes springs make streams make rivers

Make sea. Who makes tides?

In silence I fade

In still seas I see my face

In fields seal my fate

High above the cave

Stand on a million bone grave

Washed by rolling waves

Now the cow parsley

Perfumes the musky hedges

We let ourselves go

Dragonflies scatter

Flashes of cerulean

Iridescently

The final flourish

Of this leaning Labernum

Choked by the Ivy

It is time to plant

Or time to scatter new seed

Into boisterous wind?

No words can capture

No bottle could ere preserve

Such sweet May evenings

Colours of summer

Scattered though the overgrowth

Wilderness returns

From a distant shore

In the gaps and in the detail

Where the devil lies

Softly eyelids close

Consciousness slips away to

Soporific sleep

Clouds unfurl and melt

Stretching through the Aspen trees

From the sea of seas

Two times Is too few

To do all that I could do

Time to go to you

The lonely mountain

Scrambles the magnetic poles

Sea of broken bones

Perpetual twilight

Primal screens replace sunlight

Perplexed in streetlight

Will we be artifacts

In someone else’s history

Or bytes in memory?

Billboard banner art

Beating mart, pulsing apart

Inside the same heart

Hazy skies papered

Crimson Maple leaves marooned

In the sweet green sea

A bright May morning

Leaving home without a clout

It’s a weird wide world