A Friday poem

Lark & Merlin

I.

By Tom Pickard

a wren,

perched on a hawthorn

low enough to skip the scalping winds,

sang a scalpel song

seafrets drift

sheer along shorelines

listening to hail spray glass

and wine

and a waitress laugh

in a cafe without customers

I fell to fell thinking

I've been thinking a lot about the ocean this week. Then I read this poem during my morning coffee and it all seemed to fall into place. There have been a lot of oceans in my life over the years. But, this one mostly reminds me of a small town on the Oregon cost. A small diner perched onto of a bluff. Gray skies, strong wind. Good people, hot coffee.


I would love to teleport myself there this weekend...this poem and picture found here helps.


Happy weekend daydreaming!