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WARRICK WYNNE
Waking in the Blue
- Each morning we are surprised
anew
- at space, the jolt of light, the
folds
- and folds of green, like a
child’s drawing,
- slipping into the sound,
- or rich layered, soft as fuzzyfelt
- shaking our heads again at the
sky, brimming
- into the tiny bays, and silenced
by it.
-
- And at night, under the wheeling
geometry
- of the stars, emerald clarity
- turned silver and black, spread
fingers
- of light like a feather or a
fern
- slipping wider, across the dark
hulks
- of hills that have risen from
the sea,
- or sunk there, implacable.
- And ships, slipping past late
- like drifting constellations
- disappear behind the dark snout
of land,
- the far sound of engines, and
much later,
- the rinse of waves against the
shale beach
- Voices and light carry to us in
the wind,
- or without, across calm
light-streaked blackness,
- imagined hills and secret bays,
- and we wake again, step outside,
- entangled in this new web of
light and sea
- and weightless in it.
Warrick Wynne is a Melbourne
poet and teacher. His most recent collection of poetry was The State of the Rivers and
Streams (Five Islands Press). His web
site is at http://warrickwynne.org/
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