living things, birds of the sea,
with resilient invitation watch them soar enchantingly
they seem to hold hovering in a measure of secrecy
now the wind comes
out of tawny marshes
it is the impetuous whisper of the night
it provides such passionate missive like an indulgent hand.
and the night spreads the patina of December’s half moon shining
like the innocent, pawn high and persistent.
in dreams, we fly on the wind
as if, two birds of the sea
in a measure insatiably
grinding dust back into the moon
we whirl
and grasp all the liveliness’.
blow on endlessly
body to body and wing to wing.
carried by corkscrew whorls,
with a wind that left the sky
we listen for the sea birds reply
sailing upon the wisps of our unparalleled destiny.