All That I Have Taken In
At day's end, I take in the last light
seeping into the dark waters
across the bay and keep it here.
I gather the sound of departing gulls
smudged on the sky, the quietening
settle of birds in the cypress trees
along the foreshore, the giggle
of a child high on a swing
being pushed by a mothers hand.
I hold here the gentle sweep
of waves soaking into wet sand,
the slow roll of seaweed, bubbles
bursting around shells, wings
low over the water.
I draw in the evening and keep
it close with its lights
sprinkled around the edges
of the headland,
emerging stars hung soundless
in the heavens, the blinking
passage of a southbound airplane
heading into a long night.
From somewhere, the smell
of honeysuckle spilling
into the waiting air.
I make my way home, filled
with all that I have taken in,
almost happy having little space
left over to fit myself.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2023
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