Wednesday, May 13, 2015


I watched the storm strut
On the sea’s edges,
At first far-off icy chops,
Chilly sprays,
Steered by a wind,
Once lord of freezing days
In Antarctica’s wild mounts and wedges.

That sou’easter blew the white water on
Towards the shore
Across the sapphire blues,
Then rain fell from skies blackened like a bruise,
As if morning’s warm sun had never shone.

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