The year’s down at my heels
After gaping at you
Sun exonerates wrinkles,
Light tunes-up the eyes
And pink on lips
With a sound of fins and soft-blown feathers.
 
When my hearing aid fizzes and throbs
I see –
Something like willet wings over Timbuktu.
Catching the breeze,
The flabbergast is whispered
After glancing you.
 
If the gobies choreograph in shallows
Fronting up to a mirrored shoal,
A blizzard of silver haze.
The spectacle is smothered
After glimpsing you.