The Sea (Year’s End)

The Sea

Above 

the rising tides, 

the winds 

that rush 

and fettle 

above the sky 

through the

shaking hands 

of empty trees, 

the blue of dawn 

in ragged strips,

wrinkles 

and shrugs, 

sighing mournfully 

for sifting through 

the last 

of autumn’s 

leaves,

a single crow 

barks above 

the mud, 

the plough, 

along the empty 

ripples 

of loam rilled 

fields, 

as the year 

doth end,

in blasts 

of storms 

and shrieking. 

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