An Old Mind Game

There’s an old sinking ship
in the mind that – quivers –
where Storms hang – I can see –
the weight immersed in dew –

of leaves – without a rooted tree –
of rain – without a source –
my thought descends to the
bud of a Flower and –

none – remaining – can say
but all can feel the – morning –
within – carefree – then Subsidence
as my seabed and mast collide

the damp flag is Raised – but – I
cannot see through the weave –
new waves wash over the
world and – rhythm is heard –