Sky Writing

Winter Solstice, 1988
Someone has split this sunlit sky in half
with a white streak that starts to fade
soon after the irritating buzz that made it.
Resoundingly, ocean writes on itself
thick lines resolving into foam on jade —
illumined cyphers in a dissolving script.
On the shore I weave a path round stones
smooth as amulets, each with its story
layered in colour. As far as my eye can see,
jellyfish gleam from dry sand, small moons
sinking, hardening, becoming glass
punctuation marks among scrawls
of seaweed. Sealed off from this warm air,
they lie exposed, unknowing, dying of light.