The Usual Paths

Let's leave the usual paths, and clamber down
The rocks to where the sleepy, warm sea heaves;
Let's find the wrecks of boats offshore: they'd drown
On sunken banks, forgotten underseas;
Let cushions of wild thyme pad every pace
Between the rocks; and let the honeyed scents
Of iris puff our faces, as we trace
A happiness that feels complete to sense
Content at blazing light beyond the shade
Of pines, as we observe the rippling sea;
And let reluctance in words swell, waylaid,
As silence rules and, surely, seems to be
The flavour of this moment, as we go
To leave the usual paths that others know.