An update of sorts

Sorry I've been away so long.

Spildra

From the island port,

The gravel road curves

In the cliff's embrace

To where the clouds kiss the mountains

In a Conan Doyle world

And three birds swim silent

On a hidden lake. 

Through brush and tree branches 

We choose to fall

And fight our way downwards

In an endless dusk.

The beach is empty 

Save for us.

Crows cry our coordinates from above.

Winter Trees

by Sylvia Plath

The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve.
On their blotter of fog the trees
Seem a botanical drawing-
Memories growing, ring on ring,
A series of weddings.

Knowing neither abortions nor bitchery,
Truer than women,
They seed so effortlessly!
Tasting the winds, that are footless,
Waist-deep in history-

Full of wings, otherworldliness.
In this, they are Ledas.
O mother of leaves and sweetness
Who are these pietas?
The shadows of ringdoves chanting, but easing nothing.