Mellow

Mark Turbyfill

These soft hours,
The color of blurred pebbles
And wan sand,
Are an old worn fringe
About the breasts
Of the mellow afternoon.
The lilac lake
Is a saucer-thin-
Burdened with faint blue rings.
The brown velvet doz
Is a curved attitude
Upon the lawn.
Jagged in the black tree-lines
The frayed sun languishes-
A pale pink poppy
Grown too large.