Morning
Ride Mission Point Lighthouse
North to the lighthouse
A world distilled
To an amber drop
Sailing along
The singing rim
Of sun blown glass
Full to the brim
A sin to sip
When I can drain it dry
In one long pull
Up the molten road
A golden toast
To waxing light
Lick of long shadows
Last of the grapes
South of Mapleton
Translucent summer beads
Clustered
In one final flare
Combine with glint
Off bottle shards
On the verge unfurling
In sacrament
The lighthouse
Balanced lightly
At the tip
Waves breaking
On shore in endless
Supplication.
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