all this longing for the right wave

Here's another verse from the pictured 'Robin Robertson Selected Poems' (2014 edition), which I received as a present a couple of months ago ...

... it really is a wonderful  collection:


Pibroch

Foam in the sand-lap of the north-sea water
fizzles out - leaves the beach mouthing -
the flecks of the last kiss
kissed away by the next wave, rushing;
each shearing over its own sea-valve
as it turns with a shock into sound.

And how I long now for the pibroch,
pibroch long and slow, lamenting all this:
all this longing for the right wave,
for the special wave that toils
behind the pilot but can never find a home -
find my edge to crash against,
my darkness for its darknesses
my hands against its foam.

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Robin Robertson (1955 - )

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