Friday, July 24, 2009


Photography by Robert Evans

How does it feel
to leave land behind
take to the sea
live on silver offerings
and faith in your ability
to stay afloat
regardless of weather?

Such humble beginnings
you wake alone
to dirt walls
and just a glimmer of light.

Hunkered down in your snug burrow
fed by swift and sleek parents, then
pushed from your nest you fledge quickly
to cries of their approval

Now it’s time…

No backward glances
or salt pillars
You fix your eye on the watery horizon
and fly seaward.

Lesley-Anne Evans
July 2009

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Husband, hunter-gatherer

Husband, hunter-gatherer

I’m looking for bits of rope
tossed up by the sea
Anything, really…
with knots tied in them,
some remnant of a sailor or fisherman’s craft.

Ok, you said.

Relieved to find some tangible purpose
for our walk to the tidal pools,
you searched a short time
and pulled a long, knotted, shell-encrusted, perfectly weathered rope
from between the rocks.

Holding it up to me
with a smile
you asked…
Like this?

Lesley-Anne Evans
July 2009

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Words 2

When I plumb the depths
and draw up fresh
wet and glistening considerations,
presenting them on
heirloom plates -
an offering

Do you quicken, hunger
for the taste of complex spice,
pour Shiraz and savour
... slowly...
or do you crave

Lesley-Anne Evans

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