No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
The Ship was still as she could be;
Her sails from heaven received no motion,
Her keel was steady in the ocean.
Without either sign or sound of their shock,
The waves flow’d over the Inchcape Rock;
So little they rose, so little they fell,
They did not move the Inchcape Bell.
......
When I was a windy boy and a bit
And the black spit of the chapel fold,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of women),
I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wood,
The rude owl cried like a tell-tale tit,
I skipped in a blush as the big girls rolled
Nine-pin down on donkey's common,
And on seesaw sunday nights I wooed
Whoever I would with my wicked eyes,
The whole of the moon I could love and leave
......
The sky is cloudy, yellowed by the smoke.
For view there are the houses opposite
Cutting the sky with one long line of wall
Like solid fog: far as the eye can stretch
Monotony of surface & of form
Without a break to hang a guess upon.
No bird can make a shadow as it flies,
For all is shadow, as in ways o'erhung
By thickest canvass, where the golden rays
Are clothed in hemp. No figure lingering
......
Cruising these residential Sunday
streets in dry August sunlight:
what offends us is
the sanities:
the houses in pedantic rows, the planted
sanitary trees, assert
levelness of surface like a rebuke
to the dent in our car door.
No shouting here, or
shatter of glass; nothing more abrupt
......
They did not recognize me in the shadows
That suck away my color in this Passport
And to them my wound was an exhibit
For a tourist Who loves to collect photographs
They did not recognize me,
Ah... Don't leave
The palm of my hand without the sun
Because the trees recognize me
Don't leave me pale like the moon!
......
In the vast expanse where sages dream free,
Lies a realm of serenity, cleared sky.
It's a canvas bare, where the heart can see,
And the mind finds solace, hard to deny.
The clear sky, a purge of the earth's clutter,
A breath of fresh air, a sweep of the hand,
Where chaos is hushed, and disorder is butter,
Smoothed over by the quiet, expansive land.
......
Sunset
by Michael R. Burch
for my grandfather, George Edwin Hurt Sr., on the day he departed this life
Between the prophecies of morning
and twilight’s revelations of wonder,
the sky is ripped asunder.
The moon lurks in the clouds,
......
magenta magic
recently escaped eve's skies
darkening to plum
crows caw on the wing
as pink sun turns red-orange
day goes up in flames
mango berry crush
mahogany shadows move
......
The sky cries at times;
He emits fire, when needed;
Angry with a heart...
I see the sun run over the sea, later set
Below the horizon of Bay of Bengal, every evening
And the sea I see threat
The boys and girls, and sing
Whimsically, 'O, I'm now giant, be alert';
So they go apart.
I see the sun run over the meadow, later hide
Behind the trees of beautiful Bengal, every evening
And the meadow I see bid
......