Hi these are my poems
The bay
On a hill the moon is gray,
there is a bay,
in May the sands are gold,
in June they are so cold,

As waves lap the shore,
they're asking for more,
to dive beneath the waves into the caves,
one might have dove there long ago,
but in the snow one says no,
in the bay.

Gray skies
In the morning the skies turn gray,
one day they never went away,
today they are never so,
though the day the seas swelled,
the storms quelled,
the smell of the sky.

Heron
The heron dives,
in quintessence and grace,
as if a quintet could sing her song.