The pillowed clouds are smote within their hues,
Dusty with a lilac-daisy coat and disabused,
Dragonic, lonely, trailing shadow lost upon the waves,
Solace, solitude, a compress beauty stark and grave,
What mouth would ever speak,
Of such lovely summer sights,
This lengthy day of grace,
Must surely shake the sightless sight.

When squaring up the deck,
The frantic packets fall in line,
Arising from some kind of pit,
Springs order and a peaceful height.

The crack of dawn pressed down upon my face,
Kissing me into a groggy waking,
For but a blink then I can freshly think,
Up starting now to face the newborne day.

Saying goodbye to cousins a plenty,
And off we go - packed up to pack down,
Arriving and we're sprawling out,
Through the rooms and into the fridge,
Into the oven and onto the table,
Chatter into the air,
Cables strewn over the chairs,
A holiday house claimed for domain.