Resonance Poem by Michael Galvin

There, sunset boils waters
falling off the earth,
fusing all bows in red fall.

At dawn, becalmed in the lagoon,
the sea's wide arriving tongue
glims on green and arrows drawn by water hens;
tortoise rocking in the motes adrift in waterlight
claw the moon's nun-dark soil.

Green tendrils,
split mouths open to pray,
swallow sunlight down to soft bulb and pale grip
on musics conceiving - moon by moon -
an incantation sludge collapses to a pulse.

In the man grove
mud climbs reeds,
and caul-sheen shimmering,
delivers a woman.