.
Let go of my string,
the fog is a-scatter,
.
I’ll keep to the wind
flying high o’er the surf
.
as it pounds out its reason
on shale and stone.
.
The full moon’s aweigh
and Neptune’s at play –
.
let go of my string, and
it’s up and away.
.
.
© 2019 Betty Hayes Albright
.
Seasonings 