Along the shore, slim grass held
in breathless winds,
is still; conserving, not sleeping.
Clouds hover between uncertainty
for a while longer,
keeping contained the early stars; yawning
smiling, hanging – still waiting.
Patience drifts and night eventually crystallises –
a starburst showers our senses,
its faceted accents
punctuate a wondrous
parchment on which each night
She wears the bluest black of sheer
diamanté chiffon to write in
and also to coax,
when draped around
each shoulder of cloud – agreeable
their post – they dissipate
into the warmer, drier air.
The moon’s curtain rises, and birds
fly off into the divide between
the heavens and the earth.
Let us rest a while upon these shores
but stay forever on our beach.