NaPM April 16, 2018

[danny_]

wherever you are

the warm surface of rock
split into cracks now weathered,
edges soft, stained red and orange
and tan and cream, i don't
know how. in the grasses,
the brush on the steeps
that drop more quickly with each step
until there is no place left to step -
the smooth faces of rock falling
straight into the purple-blue
which is presently calm but for
the lick and slosh of gentle ripples.
a white lighthouse behind me begins
to glow. it is wide and short, made tall
by the high seaside cliff, with a single
dark window, a dozen little panes.
but i lay here, out of sight, catching
the last rays; clouds streak softly
for miles, above the horizon cut
so sharply - navy blue and soft
lavender meeting. and it is peaceful,
as quiet cricket songs are,
as gentle breezes are,
as near-sleep tends to be.
and i almost dream
as gulls pass with cheerful cries -
i almost dream that i can see
the land you have sailed to.