Air

At dawn we threaded our way
through shifting planes of blue islands,
across a roiling canvas
of wave textures.

The opening up seems to take ages.
By noon The Broads lay before us,
shimmering within sight.

We had nowhere to go but here
and there we were, out in it,
depth in all directions.

There was no word for it, really.
A little company felt good
and then we went home together.

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