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Writing at Dawn

seaside shack
I hobble up the seaside lane
Where shambled shack and tepid tea
And penciled papers wait in vain –
But something still remains with me:

You put a mango in a bowl
To give to dawn its rounding shape;
You give the rest a profiled whole
To shed some light on yawning sleep.

Disturbed exactly at the time
I reached for rhythm’s textured tone
And shadowed logic in a rhyme…
And almost touching – vanished, gone.

The mango, though, you gave to me
And sleeping silhouette deferred
Were gift enough to stop the sea –
And break each wave upon a word.


  1. Love the word “mango”. Great Poem Job.

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