The Poetry Corner

Casting Rocks

By Paul Cameron Brown

Merely on edge, the wharf in bad light clinging to water's ledge - a loon from afar the Woods closing with each sound. Casting rocks toward moon's glare lapidations laughing back, the treacle of warm night coaxing fire's glowing might. Sudden, oceanic wilderness breathless in barked silence - and camphor to keep the flies at distance, the anchored boat like a prison ship dallying on the waves, brambles & underbrush sunken wet sand, abundant berries rasp in thickets - the cottage like a jar closing for the night.