August 2013

cross tide . . .
godwits imprint
their return

Anzac Day . . .
an ashen grey sky
reddens

spring awakening . . .
a child breathes deeply
the winds of war

acrid wind . . .
the scent of night,
a weapon

winter retreat —
love-lies-bleeding droops
into darkness

la petite mort . . .
the coldness of the sea
withdrawing

blood red sea . . .
a day's coagulation
of beached words

winter's end —
a neverending story
quickens the past