DYING EMBERS
Chasing squawking circling gulls
the swirling sparks in drifts of wind
sweep wide across the white drained sand
where isolated pools now lie
like blackened clothing idly cast
beneath the salted wood stained air.
With daylight draining from the west
the days veneer of footprints left
are washed away by inward tide
in complex hours of twilight sky
as ashes slowly drift.
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Author:
Michael Edwards (
Offline) - Published: July 9th, 2019 00:06
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 85
Offline)
Comments8
As each of those embers die during the night be assured that they will rise again when the sun rises in the dawn.
Each day brings its own flames .
Quite lovely. Brought to me the thought of how we are refreshed by tides of life. Embers of a yesterday tidied by another tide, another reassuringly relentless tide.
The oceans - sometimes influenced but never controlled.
A fine write and pic M. I've gotten to read this poem. The word cropped up in a book I have - mind you, it was originally written in 1590.
I may have seen it at the time - I vaguely recall writing to the Hastings Gazette about it
but dont they smoulder beautifully.. lovely words these... N
Thanks as always Neville.
Your gift for wording to send slivers of sight into my imagination is quite wonderful Michael - a beautiful read.
Really appreciate the encouragement - thank you Fay.
Lovely words and pic Michael!
Thanks so much Christina.
An amber lives but a fleeting moment, just as a day on a universal scale. But just as we remember that ember, so shall we remember the day.
Yes we'll always remember - thanks Suresh.
Michael,
An amazing write!
Your garden is beautiful!
~Laura~🌻
Thanks Laura - so much appreciated - I'll finish off another version of the Laughton Village painting which you liked so much later today and hopefully post it tomorrow or Friday - I'll pm you to let you know when.
Thank YOU!
I’m looking forward to it!😊
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