where the jetty meanders
brokeningly wading
in a high jumper’s roll
a pelican fills up the day
holding a reserve for tomorrow
a word it regurgitates to reflect
out of preening reminiscence
the savour of reliving
tastes of feeding again
while weary anglers return
singing of old regret
that good times are a harvest
pooling about in undefined circles
and knowing it can fly
wherever the fancy
or carefree wind takes it
slurps up a blue eye
an azure fisher flashed over
because it knows it can
well I'm there ;)
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