As goldfinches begin to sing and sparrows
chirp in polyphony, and swallows,
martins, swifts hunt with grace, the palette
of attenuated gold, amber, rose
is layered along the sea’s horizon
and the sun becomes a perfect disk
in the filtering, vermilion haze.
Anonymous con trails criss-cross the compass.
A lone swimmer crawls across the bay.
The evening star, sudden as a lamp, glints
in the afterglow. A wispy rain cloud forms
and drifts away like smoke. Somewhere a peacock calls
then, elsewhere, a donkey brays – ridiculous
and sublime, like figures in a masque.
A fishing boat, its stern light lit, leaves harbour
to anchor in the shelving deep and cast its nets.