We grasp the core only gradually
of each other’s compressed midnights –
black roses flowering in sandy-eyed dawns,
memories stowed to starboard, where a
brahminy’s wings catch first light,
How did we manage it, sailing
on — weathering
Excerpts from Robert Adamson poem ‘Brahminy Kite’.
I love the photo
I love the poem
It’s all good!
cheers,
steve
Thanks Steve. Glad you like it. People who have sailed can connect to this. What a feeling…