BILL COX
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West Moors (October)

Smelling of distant salt
ribbons of cloud
race under me
waves on another sea,
milky under stars.

A conning tower of stone,
alone, shows where
the hidden moor
slips as an unseen submarine
below streaming foam.

Breaching into open air
the mossy bulk .
brakes surface tension,
then crash dives once more
to secret depth.

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