Most every dusk
I am obliged
To check
the lobster pots
fourteen crooked
steps
(there are rusted
Wobbly rails)
Most nights zilch
However
Sometimes
In the lapping
Crouched desperate
Grey as granite
In favoured splash
One is caught,
Trapped
In time by tide
cows bell on
in vain
we wait in
vain… …
Alpenhorn
*
door thuds
drum
dull…
a trick
resounds on
Matterhorn
three sang along
in the rain again,
smirked chortling
dutifully wept
sentimental soapy
tears mourning
for some life
ill wind crusty gusts
dry blown punchy,
rain splashed,
citron yellow
forsythia endures,
rose hip plumage crests
nascent runner beans
catch a wind whispers
coy callous menace
*
my stomach flutters,
argent tensions bristle,
angst swallows thrill,
thus I turn granite,
search for quarry
*
some plumbing rattles,
a rat up a pipe,
a hoopoe head banging
a tin tray…
prospects of shower shrinking,
postponement permitted
till pre-luncheon…
Grimbeau 