Amy Cuneo

Howling

Fingertips of trees flicker

light dark light

as underwater weeds

neath surf surge


Coughing winds

like plaguing thoughtsthoughts winds

no one rests on days like these


We found a fresh path today

lemon lit on grey dancing

buffered each side by banksia

gnarled

and pearly

early we walked the aisle

brides blessed by left and right

yes like babies cradled warm by night


We could hear the howling world

but we did not feel it