At low tide
a wind came up the channel
keen as a swan’s bone.
We watched old men
inspect their crab pots
as further up the passage
sailing boats
filled with breath.
Rising from the water
oysters burn blue,
godwits thresh the dying light -
in these moments
we weigh our
blissful exile against
the way light behaves
between us and the shoreline.
you are weighing blissful exile against the behaviour of light! nice set of scales there to measure happiness!
wind as keen as a swan’s bone.
lovely words!
Wonderful images…they paint with words a fine canvas.
Very peaceful poem – lovely picture painting