by Gideon Burton
A labyrinth of flame and heated air
above the canopy of oxygen:
it writes in silence, finding clouds to tear
with cable strands of light. The sunset blends
along the ocean’s border with the sea
itself, and shimmered water breaks its glare,
then carries cups of salted fire to me
along the dimming shore. I can’t compare
the island stars, though dense with gassy heat,
to all this dance of color, water, air;
nor will the still of midnight ever meet
the melodies the lapping wavelets share.
Accompany me seaward as all dims:
the water warms, the sail of evening trims.
above the canopy of oxygen:
it writes in silence, finding clouds to tear
with cable strands of light. The sunset blends
along the ocean’s border with the sea
itself, and shimmered water breaks its glare,
then carries cups of salted fire to me
along the dimming shore. I can’t compare
the island stars, though dense with gassy heat,
to all this dance of color, water, air;
nor will the still of midnight ever meet
the melodies the lapping wavelets share.
Accompany me seaward as all dims:
the water warms, the sail of evening trims.
Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr: szeke
I think you just want to go back to California so your allergies won't be so bad. Is the yearning strong in the sprintime?
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