Kelwyn Sole
1
The sea: an apiary of light
where crests briefly scintillate,
shake themselves free like bees
in search of the honey of the sun,
itself a flower risen –
a sound
that grumbles then is stilled
winds
turn, seek new directions, waves
scrabbling each time to find a shore –
that one, right there! – so near
their whitened fingertips.
Also, though: this other dawn
where I, who can hardly see
past
steam rising from my teacup
find
you, here next to me.
2
I am turned around by you, by
our immensities: this buoyant sea,
a love we’ve learned to trust
within us and about us
even more than
fulfilled desire
comes
a fresh surprise:
the common place of joy we
find when our bodies merely
touch.
Featured at The Red Wheelbarrow on 7 July 2022
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