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/
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