(1)

On the Island
Looking back,
Vision blurs
In sea mist.

But I Know,
There, eastward
With the Son
Lies my Home.


(2)

From Lionshead
I clearly see
Brightness infuse
The eastward haze.

Beyond view
Apricots ripen,
Willow Creek flows--
The Distance is me.


(3)

The raw surf
Rages, ripping
This coarse edge
Of treadable Earth.

Its dissolution,
Deliberate, invisible,
Is itself Perseverance,
And no doubt Salvation.


(4)

"The cove's south edge,
The hill behind
Blue Caverns,
Is a Hogsback."

Should I wonder
That he sees it so?
Childhood geography
Orients even Adulthood.

12/12/2001

Posted on 12/12/2001
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes