A Picnic
A Picnic
At first almost nothing,
an inkling of porcelain
as of a wind-chime’s:
then, breakers crash –
windows web and give
splintering rainbows,
sockets fizz and pop,
shelves pour books.
Outside, lawns slump,
drunk, and are gone,
apple trees thrown
like brides’ bouquets.
The cliff races inland
tearing down fields,
fences, cows, streets,
pillows of rainclouds.
Suddenly its huge roar
is drowned by silence,
the world films itself
with slow motion grace.
Clothes don’t flap
now: fathoming,
dance arm in arm
with no wallflowers.
The tablecloth trick
reverses in thick air
settling for a picnic
in the kelp forest.
A saucer see-saws
down this way, that,
to catch the teacup
gathering this storm.
