In The Ancient Mangrove
Ah, within these silent bows,
Brings adjustment towards the sun,
Slow curving motions sinking,
Anchors of tension across streams,
That lull and quiver in the wind.
A curve like a softened coastline,
Greets the giving hands,
Billowing flags in sweeping colours,
Heavy hearts lifted by mixing tides,
Cast aside like feathery coats,
Leasing time and secretive recline,
Forthwith such singing from ghosts,
Now is happening falling and catch,
Into the arms of a mysterious force,
Treebound sprite and rooted flight,
Here walks specters and broken light,
Their footsteps like seashells,
And their breath as the waves.
Ah, within these silent bows,
Brings adjustment towards the sun,
Slow curving motions sinking,
Anchors of tension across streams,
That lull and quiver in the wind.
A curve like a softened coastline,
Greets the giving hands,
Billowing flags in sweeping colours,
Heavy hearts lifted by mixing tides,
Cast aside like feathery coats,
Leasing time and secretive recline,
Forthwith such singing from ghosts,
Now is happening falling and catch,
Into the arms of a mysterious force,
Treebound sprite and rooted flight,
Here walks specters and broken light,
Their footsteps like seashells,
And their breath as the waves.
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