Arctic Tern

So, this is an oldie, probably from well before 2007 (my immediate archives only go back so far) but sometimes it's good to revisit. Thinking of writing a new set of poems and, in going through my garden photos from 2015, found some of bizarre frost patterns which caught my imagination again. Don't ask me how I connected it to this poem, who knows how those synapses fire. New set will be under the working title, 'Summer Road'.

Arctic Tern

Dry creek runs in my veins

And the drumming blood

Beats in my brain

Can't escape this passing place

If we chance to meet

Offer me grace

Silver grit and oil sticks in the crepe tread

Of my sandals again

Must be a summer road

Can't promise much

But my boat sails

On those oceans we sing

Like the stickers on the orange string

We'll throw our nets and sing

Strange lands unfolding

Scooped up in the wings

Of this Arctic tern

Feathers smooth in the skin

Flying over the ice cradles

Is how she begins

Dry creek runs in my veins

And the dust I bring

Will inflame

And your eyes will cry

With the beat

Flying across the seas

Until only the shadow of my wings

Is the structure of the tide

And I'm singing in your eyes