Storing up,
this paper keeps unwriting
this fabric now unthreads
this moistening of dry salt air
the softness of long ripples licking stone
the sparking shimmer,
forever drifting galaxies
these hazy hills that vanish into sea:
all so insubstantial,
like stains within a mirror.
Mirror of this morning
embellished by long silken floss of spider
fastens threads of sunlight
onto tassels of the ripened grass
dense floral crowns of Queens Anne's lace
our human rustlings
vanished into sea
meanderings of wasps
like tracings of our
fingers upon water.
Long long long ago the stories ceased
their words evaporated
the meaning came undone
the moral long forgotten
abiding in this vacancy of legend,
we paint our stories, lacking ink
brushed across this hazy sky
we slip, like sunlight,
vanished into sea.
Ruckle Park, Salt Spring Island
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