The morning star

Has long since gone

The sun is high

In the sky



Shadowless

A figure stands

Stranded on Venus sands



Up in the blue

And circling

The seabirds watch and wait

For movement

Of a certain kind

Down on their dinner plate



Where children

Played a flower lays

Pulled and torn up

By its roots

And where it stood

The empty space

Just screams



Down on the flats

Baby turtles race

For safety on the big deep

And white caps come

Crashing in

Indifferent to tender flesh

Shriek of attack

Then moving

In a raucous clash

A gourmet din

Of cruel gull

Beaks and tearing skin

Screaming

Lit by the evening star at Venus sands

Against a blood orange sky

There's a shadow

Of a figure prone

Abandoned and all alone

Venus sands