After Rachel Carson and Dorothy Freeman.
The call of the sink and the washtub.
The way the sky bleeds from magenta to pink.
The pear that lies open on the table.
The sunlight breaking the meniscus.
The apple tucked away in the breast pocket.
Of your heart. When the nightjar sings
open your window and watch the stars fall.
The tide is coming and for it we will wait.
The estuary its full stop, laundry never done.
The shoreline an unfolding sentence.
By Lisa Matthews