Blue Eos

Cloud has dumped on the round moon

extracting the waves’ pearly teeth

before the camera finds its tripod.

The rain is not falling any more

but the horizon refuses to abandon

darkness. I follow movement in the trees

behind me, an invisible Sugar Glider

is leaving a trail of tinkling raindrops.

I play with exposure but the sea looks

blue rather than that coal-black ink

the Chinese made from pine soot

and deer antlers for the upturned hull.