Winter might bite hard 
In water’s black metal night.

Vast plain of white flecked ways
Her salt crusted eyes give light to
Magical frost shifting fields.

No hedges nor tracks, burrows invisible 
For the watcher, just the wake 
Of a solitary fishing boat.

Red on port, green on starboard 
And a rear white light to tell
The story of the voyage
To those who were left behind.
 
Even without a moon 
I can sense season’s form
From crusty footprints on cliff edge
A poetry forever in my motion.

As if in sleep I watch a lover,
The gentle rise of her chest
Slow breath of deep slumber
Surrounded by her mighty torpidity.

But in change unexpected 
Sighs and moans, she’s dreaming of fish
In night hunger she feeds, insatiable.

To be woken in dazzling fanfare for
Ra is rising into dawn pink skies
As night heavy as grey lead
Sinks, a stone into the morning ocean.

The sunshine glorious, winter  blue and gold
But the night gave me such a gift,
Its own sea tears.


©️ david/dai fry 8th November 2019.