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Violin Tide

And this is the sea, of course scrawling by moonlight in its room, not quite getting the line right where it meets the shore.

The earliest hours still find me thinking of you; somnolent tides rise towards daylight, make good company.

A table lamp shines the grain of an old violin in the grate and down the slope from your dreams the bay similarly shines or part of it. Good company the full moon in the violin, the clock I should wind, to hear the workings of the bay . . .

Look, at least in your dreams look how I can not get this line to make sense of the sand, and how I am running out of time.

And how easily the night and the day exchange places, the land and the sea.

Paul Henry

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