Thoughts at Flagstaff Hill at Night

I stare out at the crescent line

that envelops this town and my mind.

The wind is bitter and cold, yet corporeal

and reminds me of a simpler time.

The waves shift and crash, resonantly droning

Where the moon pierces the sea, coaxing the senses

Amber slabs protrude from the pier, intoning

a platform, which allows deeper thought.

There’s a lighthouse behind me, it shines out to sea

A sun amidst the depths, it whispers silent comforts

with merit uncertain; like a lover might in wind.

A settle for two is nestled below – it eludes me.

There’s a salty permeation, a faint golden glimmer

that dapples the sky – small markets beyond the hill.

Observing the passersby, chasing music or conversation

a silver light shines on their soul, the world still.

Like billows, the thought of one last summer comes crashing

but the waters spill forward to envelop me, embracing.

I’m drowning in a fire, and out comes whispers from the ember:

“The things omitted from mind contain the things you must remember.”