A Low Bench View
How the massive and age-old chalk
Breaks the sea’s penetrating rake
Of this sceptre and emerald isle.
How the light from winter’s lazy sun
Pricks and twirls the water’s skin
Where a churchyard edges our abyss.
How its colours are spinning vertigo
Of yellow, blue, white sand and pebbles.
How time dissolve us. Aimless as Sundays.
How the gulls swoop and dive like bats
Along the chalk cliffs, a rising wall
That still points to the sea and France.
Written for Miz Quickly’s Day 4 prompt: “Name of the Game is a Title”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.
It's Still Life 
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