Above the mountain lakes she strides
in sleep beneath the moon in honor
of the morning song of sparrows
cloistered choir of the hedgerow
or the little monkeys chatter
to the coming Easter Sunday.
Waves unfolding one another
like the pages of his novel
fallen at the bedside table
vessels sheeted sleeping lover
at the window finger rhythms
on the glass a spilled sea of dreams
&
so fast the constellations slide
across the northern city sky
with venus rising one inch under
cover – my Queen of Cumbria –
climbs beyond the dotted river
to the hem and crosses over
in her orange brocade and boots.
I love this line in particular: “cloistered choir of the hedgerow.”
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Beautifully strung Nick! 💖
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‘a spilled sea of dreams’ – just wonderful!
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It was a toss up between sea and tea! Thank you, Ingrid.
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🌊🫖❤️
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