By Venus would finally Mars be chained

(Birth to a more melodious 4th)

along the shore
no longer rain
softly scorched the sun
while escaped
uncertain tones
begotten sounds,
in waves recalling
that forgotten refrain.

beneath the cliff
fog dissipating
gulls so gently scream
in cosy circles comforting
a modest wish
with swallows
the fast to break
with one once teeming fish.

above the glade
below the moon
from those waves
arising
came from the spell
in echoed knell
her songs with charm
surprising.

Dr T.P. Wilkinson writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is also the author of Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..