March Gales
by Ben M Rymer
Tuesday, October 01, 2002
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Bluster and hutle, rowdy as a schoolyard
On terms last afternoon:
The jostle
Smudges houses' edges,
As if the world were
A not-quite-dry landscape in oils
Just finished in this moments view,
the artists proudest work. It hangs
In the window, trees and gulls
Going crazy, flapping
like children in a bee-swarm,
All limbs and panic.
Sky looks like the sea
From underneath as it
Chops and rolls and lolls;
The frame sings to come in
As our flustered Atlantis
Continues to dry.
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