Untitled - Alec D Jackson

Whisper quietly, lest we speak of love;
its tender touch, the lapping waves of summer sea.
Moon and star that urge the tides upon the shore, Diana’s fervent heart.

But now, I see, upon the crested spill
a bark bearing noble standard,
risen high upon mountain waves that arrogate the land,
insistent, endless,
crashing against the scarred cliffs.
Splintered, transmogrified rocks are cautiously made smooth.

From deep within this cupidinous ocean, can a sea change happen?
Will this faithful ship harbour safe within
the arms of the tortured bays,
to trade its cargo,
equal, fair and new?
Why then, an embargo,
bars the artisan who cares for the heart of this potent land?

Why steel to meet the giving?
With fearful caution greeting?
I know and understand from where such embassy springs;
not all aid and council hides beneath duplicitous wings...

For the seafaring steward is keeper of yet another dream,
upon the beach where soil and water trace,
where city, town and village flourish and royalty nurtures the knave and maid.
When tower and cottage are made anew
from wond’rous granite, to aspire and grow.

Alec D. Jackson