“More to see! The child who eats the twisting treat; the gull who rides the unseen surf.”
Breeze breaks in laughter loosed; kuhllainkkinkcnk sothairyugoe! hahihihihihuh hyeh-uh?!
Clouds cling – fast.
Paddling swan in feathers.
The dog’s bark ricochets in waves that break ‘gainst seagull’s calling.
Day-drinker ponders; rises; leaves the poem.
The cranes cry to the cov’ring cloud.
People-watching; people, watching me.
Over the water, w’thin the waves of crashing flame, I sit ‘n write.
A finely crafted lot of letters nailed into its door, the room, so full in retrospect, slept – spacious; silent.
The walls of mud-made brick that bind and shape the space they share start to compress – contracting in upon themselves; sharp shuddering.
The grain is mismatched ‘cross the breaks.
Outside, upon the paved ‘n railing-ringed walk – sheltered – way, where Sunday patrons sit, the sun, through th’river’s auld reflection sings on th’wooden slats below the Cascade Steps.
Under the patchwork canopy that catches falling rain…