Composure Sits Atop Poem by james watkin

Composure Sits Atop



Composure sits atop
The reclusive wetlands.
Unwrinkled of mien; grave, or with
A smile of cool sun-brands.

Sinks with all weariness
My contemplative need.
Out where black swans, like friars, glide
Beyond tall sedge and weed.

Friday, October 26, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: nature,contemplation
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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