Poem in October / Happy Birthday to me

Poem in May
with apologires to Dylan Thomas

        It was my seventy-eight year to heaven
     Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
        And the mussel pooled and the heron
                Priested shore
           The morning beckon
     With water praying and call of seagull and rook
     And the knock of sailing boats on the webbed wall
           Myself to set foot
                That second
        In the still sleeping town and set forth.

Looking forward to the best day ever.

Arta