POEM

 

A roll of fog over the downs

smelling of sea.

A flock of green starlings

outpace the sun,

the sun still yawning 

among the wet aloe fronds.

A mopish bobcat stares

at the fleece-like clouds,

his slick yellow eyes

 plumb the depths

of beyond...

And there, uphill, nearly floating

over the fog in motion,

with invisible scissors

I snip the stars.