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.