Friday, October 03, 2014

By the Sea

Our thoughts, pent up for a week,
spill out onto a brisk bore tide.

We drink our fill at a waterfall,
of tears from clouds, moss, and stone.

We watch the young swans diving,
mottled grey, like the highlands.

In a country of my dreams
I dip my wings in the sea.

When my daughter laughs,
she's there with me. 

















2 comments:

bluestorm said...

Wonderful !! Thank you, Flame.

Iulia Flame said...

xxx

En plein air - in memoriam Andrew Bellon

A dreamless sleep falls from the shimmering leaves. --Sappho fragment, tr. Andrew Bellon I changed, thickened, ...

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