Listening to "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face"
in memory of Roberta Flack
Memory of elated youth; of an idyll
before the years eroded openness
with contrivances and constructions.
A holiday romance, an incidental coming
together on a summer beach, in fire-light
beneath the stars, across the bay from flashing
beacons, to the calls of sea birds haunting us
from over the strand and barnacle-encrusted
granite knolls. Hearing all the time the drum-rolls
of waves coming ashore from the Atlantic darkness
and the cymbal swish of their lace spreading onto
the land’s margin, into the spiral shell of my cochlea,
to echo there forever.
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