Of Driftwood and the Sea

Of Driftwood and the Sea

Mourning winds and night black waters;

a shadow dances, memories of a dream.

​

Hands draw back the deeps

moonstruck, though the night

is not yet grown old.

​

Hanging, silvered in the air,

a requiem for grief soars

liquid, mourning on a minor string.

​

He dances to the open edge,

grieving rhythms powerful,

on the moon-drawn tides of Spring.

​

Now, comes the silvered pathway.

​Now, comes the goddess,

of driftwood and the sea.

Fiona Mackintosh (© April 11, 2015; January 29, 2018; August 2022)