A beautiful piece of sound-imagery, from my friend Stu (@tzb). I see it in deepest blue and argent highlights, when spoken aloud.


Silver sheet slides silent
Shadow of the drummed-out rain
Spider-creeping, to touch tall trees
And drape the dewy winter’s web

Silent fell the sky, at once
The rumbling, rolling waves
Now crash some other blue-black shoreline
Far distant, out past all horizons

And here keep lookout, cabined
In our little portholed patch
Wet and wept and empty

Glassed the grass and gray flood-drains
A fast last glint of day
Reflects, reacts, refracts

On tops of bins and flower pots,
Every pool a prism.

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