Pale grasses yellow,
wind-cured after months of rain.
Waves lash the headland
beneath gunmetal clouds.
Sea birds flash white
in sharp blades of sunlight;
distant islands brood
in deep loden green.
The sea’s steady breathing
slips through my coat
into hollows of bone.
Quietly I take hold
of the long lonely sorrow—
the heart of Her mystery,
and the blessing of patience
only time will allow.
Reading of “Sea Island Brooding” with music by Norm Smookler
2 Responses
I love the emotional trajectory of this poem and the strong images evoke by some muscular phrasing.
I know you love your prepositions, but just for a thought experiment:
Pale grasses yellow,
wind-cured—months of rain.
Waves lash the headland—
gunmetal clouds.
Lots of love
Thank you, Don for the fine description bringing the experience of a sea island’s loneliness.
I love the emotional trajectory of this poem and the strong images evoke by some muscular phrasing.
I know you love your prepositions, but just for a thought experiment:
Pale grasses yellow,
wind-cured—months of rain.
Waves lash the headland—
gunmetal clouds.
Lots of love
Thank you, Don for the fine description bringing the experience of a sea island’s loneliness.