GOOD MORNING SIGOURNEY
Shimmering substance and good morning
Sigourney. We have now moved to the light.
-
Those April afternoons, (perhaps you remember),
when the pale yellow wash of new sunlight played
over the sandy dunes. The gulls from the east
whipped and played above the surf, beguiling
then both the mind and the eye. A windblown sky,
though severe, seemed settled into its steady and
strange verticality, while somewhere off to the
right, along a waterfront porch, a nautical bell
went singing. For two moments we beseeched
each other to listen.
-
In the ramshackle shack of the fisherman
'Wallace', his own lamplight sketched a
scene, and two cars rotted in his
sandy lot. Across the way,
the surf was running.
Shimmering substance and good morning
Sigourney. We have now moved to the light.
-
Those April afternoons, (perhaps you remember),
when the pale yellow wash of new sunlight played
over the sandy dunes. The gulls from the east
whipped and played above the surf, beguiling
then both the mind and the eye. A windblown sky,
though severe, seemed settled into its steady and
strange verticality, while somewhere off to the
right, along a waterfront porch, a nautical bell
went singing. For two moments we beseeched
each other to listen.
-
In the ramshackle shack of the fisherman
'Wallace', his own lamplight sketched a
scene, and two cars rotted in his
sandy lot. Across the way,
the surf was running.
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