Photography by Reka Jellema. Copyright November 1, 2014. Untitled. Azure
Its azure secured, the sky
was a kite, sidling the horizon
so slightly, no doubt,
to steadier eyes
but I am apt to tread
in curlicue
among the upturned chairs
and folded parasols. I am apt
to turn within a turn,
to find inside myself
an awkwardness, a poor excuse
for a two-step
blue within blue
to stroll along the rigid stand
of woods and shore
where last my heart
was spied. The heron surfs
my peripheral and streams,
a needle towing its thread unseen,
the long land and the azure of the sea
kiss and enfold
in suture
Written by Reka Jellema & Brendan Bonsack
Copyright November 1, 2014
Its azure secured, the sky
was a kite, sidling the horizon
so slightly, no doubt,
to steadier eyes
but I am apt to tread
in curlicue
among the upturned chairs
and folded parasols. I am apt
to turn within a turn,
to find inside myself
an awkwardness, a poor excuse
for a two-step
blue within blue
to stroll along the rigid stand
of woods and shore
where last my heart
was spied. The heron surfs
my peripheral and streams,
a needle towing its thread unseen,
the long land and the azure of the sea
kiss and enfold
in suture
Written by Reka Jellema & Brendan Bonsack
Copyright November 1, 2014
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