Café Back Garden

I’m trapped at home again.

A Second Scrap Of Notes-Gone-By

That’ll be distracting.

In one ear ‘n out the other.

I told her of the stag of memory; of th’earth; of private moments lived; of th’night.

With gracile step, agilic poise, ‘n purity he’d leapt from th’dark off to my right-side.

I see myself still strolling.

Lapped waves wash, broken-crested – I am young.

T’was o’er ‘n through this coastly scene we traced the tracks of mem’ry.

I perform great feats.

A blaze-blue spirit, wonder-rapt.

Three wetsuit-wearers, dog, and I.

Endless as the fires of night.

I write another poem for to reassure someone (Me?) that nothing will hinder.

Ends; begins. Writ; collected.

Small pilot boats ‘n ridden rafts threw cheers toward the hull, their voices smashing gladly ‘gainst the iron.