Poem from February

 

Gulls in slow white waves

Like ash flicked from fire

Vector-drawn, whirled into

Thumbprint. Whirled into whorl. 

Reverberation beneath my foot

Beneath skein of sand, duff & leaf,

Bone drifted to dust, skin sanded 

To ash. Somewhere underfoot

The earth was moved, time gyred

& the whole sweeping nonchalance

Of life narrowed numinous into

Precision. You were there.

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