Sentinel

Drooping on a canopy
There sleeps a careless wisp of mist
A dark boat brooding, adrift
Silver waves hurtle on madly
Gliding under a quiet sun
Musing of a certain note
Over the gritty crippling stillness
Of the whiteness of the stream
Twinkling across a pale sky
Smoke-filled, rainy, distant
A scarlet lily is watching
In hiding, gleefully.

Taken

Invited to this flamboyant ruse
A clock ticks, time to begin
Guests have flowed into the glimmer
He must now ready to amuse
Cloaked in a robe of deceit
Cheering to this resplendent charade
Await a murky delight
On the anvil
Where listeners watch enthralled
Lies are dancing breathlessly
The trickster is weaving a tale.

Expedition

The rushed clap of the feisty ride
Sweeps the air with tingling jabs
Clucking and lashing into the gust
The carriage slithers into a sudden halt
A chance moment rolls in when
The cobbled lane kindles in fire
The traveller compelled to stop
A ravenous gaze fixed on
The foggy white twilight
Swinging in the golden crescent
Of a deep blue night
Silken in the moon glow
Starving for more

Advent

This lone dusk is waiting
A sleepy time ambles
But hiding in a languid daze
It is wide awake, busy.
All day long
Quiet, where it lives
It has been warily thinking.
It has strategised
To trick
It has decided
To ambush
It sneaks in
Slowly behind
To strike
To deluge
It is storm.