
this, when the tide's rolling in
and the late afternoon sun's rays are slanted;
shades of amber-honey; a glaze--
translucent-gold oozed over a deep magenta sky
along with the red ember-glow setting light
to the tall clay cliffs up ahead facing west:
gulley-gouged, ravine-scored along their entire aging face;
with touches of rouge and rose and raw salmon blush
bounced-off the underbellies of gathered clouds at the horizon
in streaks and in clumps and in random masses--
smoke-puff soft and cotton-ball light;
they've always congregated here: each afternoon,
at this time of year, reinventing this glorious sight
time and again;
No comments:
Post a Comment