Four Poems

Daphne

Society is all but rude
In this delicious Solitude
                                        Andrew Marvell

Silly as it is to fuss like this,
How come a land has locked me in?


There was that rush, of air, of sea,
To take me, to draw my float
Into any little room it happened to choose,
                             Air no shadowy medium,
Sea sufficient to itself.

                                   Watch out,
The moment this year is up I’ll migrate again.
A fond hope cannot be unreasonable today.

First, to shake off this husk,
This brittle husk that prickles me. My quintet
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