On this granite precipice
On this summer’s night
Under this waxing moon
The silken wind climbs the hillside
Rubs its belly across the grey-green trees
Surges and ebbs against me
Wrapping its fine velvet arms all around me
And yet it does not linger
Stretching . . .
reaching beyond me . . .
to dance with the green slade Sea
Lost in one thought
All my words are now but one word
And that word dances away
Dances as though caught in a river of trance
Running away to the Sea