Childers Cove

Where the wind blows
through the cracks in the walls
and nights are as strong and black as tea
where bird skulls whitened by patient time
and driftwood
adorn the pastel rooms
I am Home
under the covers by the fireplace
I embrace you because you rock
my imagination with tales of mouse hunts
and a brown owl which flew free
I awake at your side into argent dawns
after the lead of a circling black tail
through the brush land
I step across rocks dispersed in tall grass
where foxes and snakes prey
on the edge of the overhang
moist dog nose against my cheek
I stare at the point
where heaven separates from sea
aquamarine unfolding
fingers curled around the serrated edge
of a cuttlefish bone inside my pocket
I know I will find you there
at work or on the veranda
and I’ll cheerfully return to your kitchen
to drive you along country roads
in your beaten up Renault.