The Dawnlight
I came to the west country,
to the rainforests of the coast,
where the vines are as thick as trees,
and the birds violet in the morning;
I went fishing as far as the mist’s edge,
catching cod and blue-bellied halibut,
watching the sunset like blood
drip into the sea, hearing the summer
hammer of rain out on the bay, at night
the coughing of sea lions in their drowned caves —
until the black funnels of the star driven winds
shook out the maze of an unwired dawn,
and then the waves were yelping like the whelps of dogs.