On
On the last cusp
of evening,
just before
the hush
of dusk dances
the last dance,
through
the speckled sunlight,
amongst
the flickering branches,
beneath the peach
and blossom,
the fall
of a late
summer sky,
if you listen,
if you listen
carefully,
and in the time
it takes
to cross
the footbridge,
over the stream
that empties itself,
out beyond
the woodland,
into the vastness
of sand,
of beach
and the slow tides
of retreating time,
if you walk
over the bridge
and look out,
to the west,
to the retreat
of sea
and memory
across to
the estuary,
the lowest
of tides,
in the time
it takes
to look over
the edge
of the world,
where mountains
fall in ancient legends
into the sunset,
into the reaching
the waves
and stairways
to the emptying
of the sun
the last
of these passing
of days,
if you listen beyond
the distant cries
of waves,
listen,
behind the calls
of the lost
and drifting calls
of the curving,
rising,
falling spirals
of hills,
you can hear
the call
of buoys
and bells,
the passage
and rumble
of ships
that leave
and heave
in throbs and smoke
beyond the river
to the greater skies
beyond,
and there,
in the middle distance,
between the now
and then,
before and after,
there and here
you can feel
the touch
of sea,
and air,
wave and sand,
the wrinkles
and ripples,
of tides and time,
the touch
of silver-gold
and yellow,
the ochre red
of a deepening dark
of a new coming
the wave of night
and star,
moon and light,
just there is
where you can
vanish
into yourself
beyond your self
in the unanswered
vastness
of an empty sea.
Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me feedback!
p1964km@googlemail.com
