Poetry Corner : Shifts
Black plastic bale wraps flappingWave slappingCloud shadows chasing over dappled shadowsIn this seal-head-bobbing inshore sea (Like me) the geese won’t settleThey feel the flyways openMagnetic roads to the endless lightOf North’s brief summer Here, our summer shift stands ready at the turnPlumage fresh as new paint. By McB. 24/3/26