Death Travels Fast

There be no earthly sound that bothers me
not half as much as whispers tauntingly
tonight chime wind-chime chimes without a lead
and craft the mind set oceans waking quays.

Such larks do fey sense water, saline strife,
marooned like starlings slut the dark’s ofay,
while darling failures, past, rut dawning ricks
until sunfest obeys trick Neptune'd mist.

I hear the Terns return once this occurs:
Hear Skate and Scampi flurry, scurried surf.
Hear Piper's billing molluscs to be freed:
Here Mant’as rise and fall neath blue blew light.

Installed with breadth, light wanes as zephyr's bail
infall blown myths which twain death's charity.