Through Water, Uncertain

The dream of shaking
    night from branches
                     of the invisible
orchard, breaks
          loose the tide between
land and open sky.  Your
     casual stance erupts
                      silently across
my fragmented synapses with
                a sound of drunken seagulls crying.
          And the question brought out of this, is
a whisper lost
          on the long, black breeze tunnelling
its way through
         earth, through   water, uncertain if the end is
the going or
     the coming of the light.

W. Luther Jett