Changes

The breath of desert wind 
Has caught my cheek
And carried to this northern shore,
The salt sea tang,
The siren song,
The age old widow-maker's
Whisper of the tide.

It dries the lips
And draws the tears 
Is what it always was
A rich reminder
Of full fathom five.

The evening primrose
In the dunes
A flash of hope
Among the silver willow
For a more benign
And fruitful day
Tomorrow.

JL July 22. 14:37