Where the mountain
stands clear of the plain
and the tussock waves
ripple in wind-wood applause
the seagulls praise a bounty
of sweet water, wings raised
in salute, circling, circling
in slow-patterned search.
There where I wander
in breathless amaze,
eyes drinking, drowning
in a visceral scene seeping
through defences, breaching
senses used to beauty,
transfixed to the moment.
There – where I closed my eyes
and shunned my senses to survive.
Here – where I close my eyes
and try to breathe it again.
© 2007-02-21, I.D. Carswell
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