Six Bells

Six bells of the morning
Watch the
Sun floating free,
Horizon:
Elusive, geometric, perfect nothing
Between the water
And the wind.

Embrace the Trades,
And feel their
Strong, persistent hands
Upon your sheets.

Dance with deep, paradoxical lows
That push and chase you
As they will.

Please do beware
The horses’
Still and stultifying highs, those
Listless doldrums, those
Still sargasso seas.

Skirt their giant, swirling gyres
Of gathered, missing things,
Of
Tattered couch
And lonely sock
Looping to infinity
Without your leave.

Six bells of the morning
Watch the
Sun flying high,
Horizon:
Endless, liminal, perfect everything
Across the birthing
Of the worlds.