1986-1990: These are some of my better early poems. If I wrote poems like this today I might not be happy with them. Nevertheless I think they have a strength and character of their own and are worth including if only to compare with my later work.

Cycle

The dawn seeps through fissures,
Smiles into new blue air.
The day gathers itself,
Consumes itself,
Slows.

The evening whistles with glamour,
Glistens with growing opulence.
The night gleams blackly,
Folds softly,
Waits.

published 2010/06/05 in Proximity / Writing / Poems / 1986-1990
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