For Laura
They said she was bewitched
by sun dancing on the sea,
smell of eel-grass ribboning the shore;

or that, entranced, she gazed too long
at mirrored images of docks and sails –
gulls flying through water, trees rooted in sky;

perhaps the nearness of stars
wheeling in deep-set nights
kindled flecks of fire in her eyes.

Some unknown alchemy, siren songs, a spell,
elixir from a golden cup had worked
its sorcery – erased the years between.

I have my own idea: she heard
her children’s voices singing on the wind,
their laughter changed to jingle shells
dazzling the shore.