The Glass

These messages in bottles
Have bobbed along down the years 
To wash upon 
My quiet shore, and I sit here,
Waves licking my toes 
As I unstopper them 
One by one.  

And what I find 
Delights me with its
Colours and sighs - all the moody
Plaintif time that
Eddied by me at its own pace 
Into distance, is unbroken.
I reclaim it quietly.

A long way from there to here
You'd think, all these 
Bottles carrying ink impressed
On paper rolled inside - 
Messages of tide and
Weather, sun and wind -
As I empty them, dainty

Clouds pass across the sky
Serenely - no damaging
Tidals or hurricane-blasts
Now - the outlook is
Pleasing, the palm-trees sway,
Except that once I'm done
I have to clear-up all this glass.

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