When I rise from bed
the sea is light
like turquoise, like the colour
of silk, the colour of time.
An egret on the shore
patient, still, rises white
above the tides as slow
as our outline on this bridge,
as slow as a pearl.
How then to explain
its quiet slide beneath the water,
how it dreams itself a body
from the rippling waves,
turns it into blood
and bone, sun and rain.
I taste the salty air
and look across to notice
how in your eyes a thousand
stars begin to softly burn.