J... Tudor Poems

The fire...
I watch it's serpentine smoke,
it's breath,
rise into the cold night
...

Often I'll walk
and just remember...
there was a time;
...

Black sails, against a midnight sky,
he buried his heart on an island.

Some day...
...

It is night now and quietly
a ribbon of moonlight breaks
through the clouds like a
pattern weaver passing it's
...

I unfold easily.
Though sharp,
my crease is gentle.
Opened in the sun,
...

Anchored 'neath moons harbour,
and waiting for a tide,
I 'spect the beans and rice
will have to subside.
...

Wings,
set close to body,
perched
against cold wind
...