What a Calm Sea Hides

what a calm sea hides into the deepest indigo air airwaves have settled all that remains is a fringe of tide the tree holds, forever on the eighteenth day of every second month an invitation arrives. not encased in a stiff white crinkling envelope made from the death of a tree it is from the tree, a passing zephyr of whisper-breath the merest of rustles “come, there is space for you we will talk” welcome steps out, moods follow at a distance they never try to enter, it is futile clouds of different greys tumble backward coming home to a favourite place heaven of the heart veils slip away not needed here shields of gauze left piled out side there is an inside and an outside there is no clinical, mechanical, buzz-beep speak altering through the air see bespectacled dissect, creeping through mouldering pages looking for similarities, wrung out theories and queries from long ago sit and be quiet and so I do for an hour on the dot, finis I do not see me. among all of these descriptions these wise whizz-bangers, bon mot until next time I reach over to shake the proffered sepulchral cartoon undertakers hand. you will not find them here blown up and blown away by their own hot air. I see you as you are gremlin minds.