Slowly, slowly, the pixels are pulled apart.
Whitewash noise rises within and welcomes the dissipating vignette.
Wet Sound, slopping over your feet -
Still waiting to be revealed behind still-peeling eyelids.
Focussing now, the colours are palid and pastel.
There's a salty brightness that eminates
From the resting wave-pulse,
The clean white shell fragments
And sharp Minch-softened coral pieces;
It's hush-rhythm lapping eternally
At a wooden row-boat,
Washing away with each tide any attempt
To interpret this stillness.
YOU ARE READING
Natural
PuisiA small collection of poems loosely to do with nature from 2011. I love the outdoors/walking/exercising but mostly just feeling part of the landscape. These poems are about earning that feeling.
