Poetry by Peter Zelaskowski
Stolen Moments
On the cliffs near Stoer
I was
As summer stole a
moment.
In a lush suggesting
many greens,
Amid mottling hues of
gorse and heather.
The sea,
Though not quite any,
was many colours.
White tipped Dolphin
waves
Playfully caressed
Where yesterday they’d
raged.
And atomised light
sequinned
The slow rhythmic ebb
and flow.
Hanging on the salty
breeze
Was a gull
Mocking my wish to glide
on this air.
Winking, it tipped a
wing
Into an arcing sea bound
swoop.
I lay down and drowsed
Dreaming elemental
pleasures
While the day quietly
hummed.
