As swallows swoop
through fog’s white
infiltrating fingers,
goldfinches fly
quick catenaries
between rocks and sea.
Midnight last,
you and I attended
a pair of skunks
on monlit promenade,
soft, scentless,
self assured, regal
Here, where land and sea
and air and light
hold coastly commerce
we are ghostly sauce
for beauty’s meat
which yet we taste
1990