The shore-line is full of bones, little white bird bones
and beached bleached branches stripped to their clean last,
fleshless and sapless among the stones,
skeletal recollections from the vast
offertory of the sea. The bird
that called so raucously at daybreak, the unfurled
leaves splayed out across the skyline of many springs,
fall back now upon the bare bones of things.
Fleshed still, vivid still, encumbered,
I sift them out, from a muddled world
of claws and tarry strings.
Beached by Stella Davis | Lemon Poetry Reed Diffuser Set
$20.00Price
