Friday, July 20, 2018

The sky inside his glass (Day 548)


He took a sip, 
pretending it was 
the sky swirling 
inside his frosted glass,
the sky that curled and 
folded in upon itself  
trailing a shadowed veil
across the slate-dark sea,
when hand-in-hand they 
traced the wine-stain 
crescent of a bay from bluff 
to point, pausing to dance 
with foam-tipped tickling 
waves, laughing at their 
good luck to chance 
on such a storm 
on such a day.


(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: PxHere