HE IS IN IRELAND

A big wave for-set in awe of the sky, as I dive

between high lights and high tides ,

Its twilight and I , brave as I try, behold

the untold of heaven and why

Must this waiting be keeping me dry?

Must be fate be in writing that hides?

Must thye mist be a twist that I fight?

Must I miss all that's listed so high?

We taste you and I from afar

I begin to feel fronds of the heart

And the seams of your coat that I spy

Must be made of some cloth that is bright

Some substance or other you have

That I crave or wish to be by

To behold in those folds of my knight

To be clever but to miss not a flight.