An Easter Wind

in the maze of morning
light congeals
like crystal cuckoo spit

eyes blink
slick with sugared sand
a nursling of mine nestles
in sweet straw asleep

silken hammocks
green deep beds spider webs
and ship bells ring
deep down deserted fishing ground

good-will runs out
on their neap tide
but their songs shine like sun
saves me from sloth and sin of suburbia

a balm of bumble bee hum
sooth an ear that’s heard
the whistle of to many roads
beneath my wheels

mountain voices
feels like miss carol king
crooning softly
on a stinging skin

the easter wind creeps in
a chilling crack of window
mr mellow jockey
spills piano notes from my radio

a flashing twist of road
tapers out
towards a memory
called she

     -Dave Kavanagh

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