Friday, March 13, 2015


Outside my window,
Just beyond the open shutters,
A lofty palm tree’s frond flutters
Like a seabird’s ample wings
In the easy breeze that sings
A song of tender night and peace.

In the distance the ocean calls,
Waves advancing and receding
With a roar and then a growl,
Like a predator on the prowl
For senseless prey and fishermen
At careless play in the briny den.

The sky is defined by silver clouds,
That billow like the rising smoke
Of a furnace crammed with coke,
And rush northwards in upper airstreams,
Making it seem that the marvellous moon
Is flying south to polish the polar gloom.

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