Numbered fraughts give way to attentive sugar green
sipped from the cup of the late afternoon
brewed to the temp of a merry calm song
lapping up breezes and waves carried 'long.

Faith is a mysticism not requited on this 
the after morning of a before dusk
whose dry avidity makes rocks into
the bastions of a chaotic universe.

Lest adrift be your memoir title,
carry away the instruction, 
dissolve your recipe book
and mine,
and alter the sentence you uttered
to reflect the idyll you see.

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