OUT OF THE SUNSET'S RED

Sunset over Gerroa's Crooked River last Sunday triggered the words of William Stanley Braithwaite's poem.


Out of the sunset's red Into the blushing sea, The winds of day drop dead And dreams come home to me. — The sea is still,— and apart Is a stillness in my heart.


The night comes up the beach, The dark steals over all, Though silence has no speech I hear the sea-dreams call To my heart; — and in reply It answers with a sigh.


(photo courtesy Kent Ladkin)




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