Savour This

Here,
                                                   under the stars
clouds like milk spill the sky,
part racing part dangerously close
to the palm fronds near the sea.
 
The dark sand under the feet
crumble with the vapours of the night,
hungry waves hissing with resentment of foam
swallow the land.
 
Smudge of grease pales the face of moon,
bats like  prayers in praise rise to the sky : draw comfort
here under the stars.
Till

a dull grain of pain grates your feet,
cough of time rasps your throat.

Big Tent Poetry