yachts are blue

yachts are colored blue and white their faces turned into the wind nothing in the rigging wires but the whisper of a foreshore breeze the edge of the Bay is lost out there turned without warning into a cloud a lonely boat has passed beyond the boundary and from sail to fly in the grey … Continue reading yachts are blue

digging water and kissing clouds

Poem #7 from The Book of Evenings Back to: The Book of Evenings – Introduction he must have been cold for it is May and there is no heat in the descending sun he stood in the Bay water above his knees a short-handled garden spade in his hands and he shoveled displacing water in a … Continue reading digging water and kissing clouds

bay bed

sun has marbled the water into mosaics patterns on the sand fringe fronds from decaying seaweed wriggle for a moment as a wave heaves while the fry-fish spread before us scattered by vibrations when I splashed my foot churned the sand the waves keep come-and-going sh-sh-sh hush and hush wash golden clean this bed © … Continue reading bay bed

Cleansing Salted Water

tasting hard water in the bay slow rolling and gentle rocking to stray glimpses of a moon that's hide and seeking through the black of stormy clouds falling showers of light tattoo rain reach down to the warm of a lowly tide in early morning I'm half seeing where I think you are sliding in … Continue reading Cleansing Salted Water

sabres at patterson river

a flotilla of flat-bottomed sabres red triangled teeth atop the white of a single sail forty strong and tacking as a shoal         tightly bunched with a solitary straggler to the rear and one that is running hard to port and pointed at the piece of flour-soft yellow sand marked out as … Continue reading sabres at patterson river