Light House

Evasive splashes rise and fall Leaving but a trace of mist To reflect The taste of awe For gaping jaws to admit Could it have been? Pointers light the way While the house stares on as the willow With pursed lips and nothing to say Catch a slice in frames Slice a piece to save Give the rest for the next To cherish the foggy days Slide right through the bars Skip right through the links Mellow in the bush alone In wait for the Humpbacks’ wink More at: http://brendenpettingill.com/index.php/2017/01/22/light-house/