Byron Beynon

He defines places by their foundations,
their firmness, the strength of roots,

how morning sometimes comes
with a red wound in the tempered east,

the illusion of a new sunshine
arriving within the stillness of a winter's room;

a day toasted by the wine of angels,
secret tears that meet

by the sea's drained heart,
when all tides

escape from this life,
the flotsam sacrificed beneath sharpened steel.