She has highlights in her hair,
The butter kiss
Of summer light
And fragrant breeze
Painted there.

But it’s her thoughts
That wear
The gold
Of lifted mood
And tussle

In halcyon
Of lofty space
And blue sky
Where shine
Is gloss
Upon the body

And soul
Is spirit
Reaching through matter.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015

Late Afternoon At The Beach

Late afternoon
Refracts and alters
The sea from blue-scape
Of cool, dark wandering,

To a surface of captured sea-light,
Spliced by wave flux
To an oscillating multitude
Of angles:

And from it rises haze
In subtle smudge
And salt puff,
Driven above the surge,

Ascending as the outer edge
Of the visible wave,
To high spirit
And fine distillate

Of seawater ether,
Energised beyond
Dense form
And made buoyant

On air’s
Much lighter,

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.

If Only I

If only I
Could grasp
The ineffable spirit,
Harness in all the times
Of my life.
If only I
Were buoyant bright
In every instant
Of my being.
If only I
Could alight
The serendipitous mood
And be there
With its lucky light,
Never once outside
Its kindly,
Luminescent beam.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.