Floating scenery

However distant now, the Sea once was here.

His absence steeped in the rigid waves of endless

rolling hills ― a mountainous sea all around

as far as the eyes can spread, obstinate to rest

on a taut string-line horizon, instead

skipping as a flat stone on the crest

of a stalled present, over the bare treetops

abandoned homes under thick moss-covered roofs

tucked in slivers of ancient wool[gatherings]-

like blossoms grappling to the age-

old slate ― the living always reaching skywards

towards the Sun, then, here, now

in this very moment this floating blue scenery

encompasses my entire existence

gushing like an open vein, flowing, fleeting

as Nature claims her own, takes it all back

to heal, to heal.

Then the Sea may return, perhaps.

_ _ _