THE WHITE & THE GREEN:
The mist delivers diamond drops to washing lines, perfect
in the space between their beats. The mist draws in, conceals
us from the world, imaginary fog horns howl off Beachy Head
to turn the feet of Summer tourists lost in conversation.
Snatched in the final feet away from the green and broken teeth
beautified with glover blooms at edge of the world and the silent
salt washed stone white open arms beneath waiting to receive them.
(K)
Karl Hyde 
Αt this moment I am going to dο my breakfast, afterward having my Ьreakfast coming yet again to read further news.