Agate

by John Swain

Agate the sea wreathes mosaic,

we wade in the shallow,

we float on gold rosettes

to the diamondback sandbar,

your eyes fletch the sunlight,

the sun stills in prism.

The sky shines to billow

the skirt of your dress like a sail,

you move to tilt the wild sphere,

you curve to mindful blue.

We wash transparent,

you necklace sun inscripted

on the pendant

clasped with agate

bound like wind behind my neck.