|
| |
Morning Reservation
Everything seems to fit
into this morning's
vast mosaic as if each
piece has been shaped
to occupy a given place.
Even the broken sea shells
that first appeared redundant,
strewn haphazardly
along the beach
now give pause and interest
to the sands otherwise
featureless reach.
Trees occupy their allotted
space, the rotunda claims
its usual ground and clouds drift
the wide freedom of the sky.
Silence cups like an ear
to receive the days
waking sounds and in a corner
where the pier slots so neatly
into the sea, small boats bob
about in their moorings
overlooked by a hollow made
in air that seems to fit
my contours just perfectly.
Copyright ©
Paul Willason
|
|