Dockside I overheard the sunset Conversation of women young enough To call Eve mother. Swallows spoke on waves while Father and son fished in other tongues. Here babbles a broad lexicon, every gloss In agreement lapping.
What has drifted down you, embanked in Emerald guard? All manner, all members Of this scape – the boat, the boy, the leaf, the legend Long untold, unwritten by ash and spark. What has drifted down you, silty reach, But the bedrock of our story? Where new tribes beat Battery’d drums and oarsmen count theRead more
If I am to grow old, let me grow up And stretch from shade to sun Where buds expand to greater green Fit for moth and maid and man.