Speedwriter at sunset -

Soon the sky will go red
and that is when I will write the poem
because I have found a volcanic sofa shelf of rock
on this day of Clima – and the pools
couldn’t team with enough life tonight,
the crabs can side step quick-step all they like
and the fish can dart from edge to edge
wondering why the sea became so small,
because when a sun clouded in sand
is cut by the horizon line
and rays of fingers stretch
from there to here
it is then that I will write the poem
from the sofa
on this day of Clima
when the sunset hand illuminates the land
when the surf bubbles gurgle their glory
at last, having worn that one rock
to one tiny grain of black sand
holding an essence of story,
it is then that I should really write the poem,
before it gets too cold
and too dark to see
the crabs side step, the fish,
and the sun,
clouded in sand,
cut by a horizon line
too clouded...