Poezja

Bleeding the sea 
For brown seaweeds. 
I was trading the tides. 
 
Talking me blind; 
Kissing on my face, 
O moon, you were reading 
the dark earth. 
 
To awaken me. 
I prick my fingers to collect 
The fractured thoughts. 
The ospreys were expected- 
 
To land for laying eggs. 
I will seed the clouds, 
To bring in rains, to 
Wash the stains.