“the sea crowds its silvered children back and fourth under the moon” “what part of land has not been the sea bed” “the quality of …
“darkness and rain an ancient feeling” “words of the river swarming here, in branches of mangrove” “to dry land, water returns tong…
The wind is dropping / slowed to a whisper / muted / by a lacy veil of snow
Wrote this a while ago after a bracing winter walk on the shores of Bute.
Chaos came tonight, / Uninvited as always,
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