Cliff
written by: Polly Oliver
@Polrocksnbones
Exactly between the eastward-rising moon
And the sorrowful sun, trace the limestone
Bones with your feet.
Let the red clover, thrift and grasses
Of the summer cliffs whisper
On your passing ankles. July
Warms your back as it always did.
Waves slide on as they did on your long ago beaches.
Time passes, yet doesn’t.
The yellow vetch and golden lichen,
Colours of a child’s swimsuit in 1967
Are still bright, though your eyesight fades.
There’s peace in entropy.
JAN/FEB 2017 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
Writing in the spaces between the hustle and noise. Poems published here and there, but nothing beats a poem brought to life in a live reading. Ex broadcast journalist (are we ever truly ex?), communications pro, mum, coast dweller.
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