Snotgreen, Joyce called it, and the sea
Seen from here, though it’s purple-ribboned,
Fleeting snot streak obliging shows.
Childhood long-spent, in sloth was spent
Watching light’s change from hilltop window.
Nightly scoped crescent beam from Howth.
Counting, I’d sit, with each brief burst,
Dimpling gold-grey, revealing shallow
Wavelets’ dance. Still, I’d watch, alone.
Hearted sad secret couldn’t hide.
Questing light probed my darkened bedroom.
Placid sea stormy soon became.