sketchy flash
Quarter moon, low tide.
Spring sap moon beckons the sea back in.
A lacework retreat across winter stonebeds.
Rockscape scopes the air,
hammer pit pewter and button, glistening.
A quarter moon ink-skirt in the neap. A shoal
wave champagnes gold to silver
bursting through sun-blot pinks
like it is Holi,
and in the boat bobbing next to mine – pirate inks
watering the flowering pebbles
of Spring.
The worm moon shines
well below the ice shelf melt,
where March harvests her full moon fortunes
for when the tides roll in.