Page 8 - DAVID ROOMY MysteriuMBellE
P. 8
BIRDS AND FISHES
I set a ring of parched stones.
I gathered wood the shade of bones. It hied me high o’er dimming tide to lay this fire in eventide.
A day before this thought had burned, and setting store in dreams, I yearned to gather driftwood, kindle flame, this dark and steaming seaside claim.
A lamp awaits the midnight sun and shelter gives as shelter won. The nips of light around the base return my sight to quiet pace. Then larger twigs begin to boil. From lamp-lit damp uncoil
the worms of passing summer’s night. Quietly I await the night
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