SANDPIPER LANE
 
Jetsam and spindrift. Sunspot, deckchair, wasp.
Resist the message coded in salt air
about the abdication of the gods
and their replacement by a sea-bright stare.

The jeremiads of disorder write
themselves: a scribble and a flash of spots
translate from flickerings into random notes
dappling this morning's earth-tones black and white.

Here sandy soil feeds nothing except weak
roots nuzzling down for water. Yet each spring
dry leaves appear, pale creepers cover everything
Feet deep in loam and mouths too full to speak,

over the hill the oaks and maples drink the summer lawn,
leafy hotels for all the sweeter birds.
We're left with winged simpletons. Somehow their babbled words
...