Posted in poetry

Feral Air

Minutes shy of midnight,
Windows wide
To coax the feral air,
Long-sleeves air,
Gentle picket line
Of autumn’s fleet,
Masts now rising
As before and before
From the nameless horizons
Of the Celtic Sea.

Author:

I’ve retired after a career teaching law. I divide my time now between Athens, Georgia, in the States and the south coast of Ireland.