Suite Ste. Luce 11-14 /14


(…such lovely images in my mind right now…)

rogermoorepoetdotcom

fundy 05 mist+wolfepipers 081.jpg“Though lovers be lost, love shall not;
and Death shall have no Dominion.”
Dylan Thomas 

Suite Ste. Luce
11-14 / 14

11

The beach compacts
smaller and smaller.

The tide jostles
sand pipers
into a dwindling world:

this shrinking pocket
handkerchief
of sand.

12

Happy the kite’s face
with its child
dangling far below.

Kite bounces up and down
on a tight-rope of air.

Below it, the child
walking the beach,
nose to the wind,
obedience on a leash.

The kite wags
its long, bright tail.

13

When the mist thickens,
it closes a window in the sky.

The church on the headland
steps plainly into sight,
and fades again.

The old man wraps himself
in a cloak of rain.

Suddenly, the sun
drapes itself,
a golden sou’wester,
over his head.

14

Summer lies abandoned
under rain-soaked umbrellas.

Red bucket, bright blue spade.

Childhood,
cast away:
a pair of sandals

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