Coming to Grips with White Knuckles Part 6

They made us sit alphabetically in rows.

Green oranges are sprayed systematically in volcanic soil near pummelled surf.

One stood to answer questions, was called after the surname, requested permission for trivials.

Outrigger canoes with barnacles in tow splash menacingly near coral reefs. Under a lazy orange-ripple moon halfing itself between stages of growth, night winds taunt puffish clouds.

AMHERST ISLAND

In winter, you were a flash of light, tundra against Arctic floor

Warm breath stirred yr summer's breast and I saw windblown hair the colour of kelp transfix the lavender print of a scalp strewn sh.o.r.e

Later, tiny bits from a calico dress became domiciled wings off b.u.t.terflies, miniature bitterns ever more shadowy strewn across the Barrens, an unbridled strength from that

Faraway isle released to orchestrate sunlight amongst all colonies that flower-- a statuesque Red Admiral, Banded Purple, f.e.c.kless Comma all aswirl to the pipes of a Devil's Paintbrush, stranded drumfish, sage, and tubercular ragwort

ANCIENT OF DAYS

It's Epsom but could pa.s.s for Epping, New Forest or Dumbarton Wood.

There's ivy of the thickest English sort not commonly found in America; sprigs growing across open ground mantling it.

Shiny to the eye, soft encircling the touch, I am reminded of blue waters, green gra.s.s Blake's Ancient of Days: an old man's beard stepping from the trees, Spanish Moss so unearthly it covers a southern forest.

There are tendrils in herbal potions of unbroken lips that move across both dew and clover.

I see Druids reciting psalms, weaving ivy along garlands of oak, the incantation set before a British lake-- briar baskets carrying the trusting dead; food offerings transversing the waters.

The ivy calls to mind all these things, just a sprig held tightly yet aromatic beyond imagining, my timorous English settlers seen thru a spate of leaves clutching their holly on Roanoke island.

The End