Lay of the Land
1 – 26 June 2019
That magic hour of suns’ last stand
picks out the folds of our dear land.
The ribbon of road divides the scene,
rear-view mirror shows where I’ve been.
And now I stand with brush in hand,
Margin marked between sky and land.
Brings to mind, one stormy day
the rough sea clawing at the bay.
Black rubbed back, a streak of blue,
an arc of land and sea construe.