The long circuit
Our ride is over
a faint narrow track
that dissolves into rivulets
and deep tyre marks
it has trickled
and slowly brought itself
to a halt
as it slips through the fingers
of forest and wood
where it came from
untroubled
I never understood
where it might be going
returned to the land
where the dead have been sleeping
back to occean and sand
calm and quiet
as the unconscious
from where it once sprang
it rides underwater
every spring
every year
at the centre of the cycle
of the circuit we were
Midnight flight
In the midst of winter not a seagull crowed
the skies were black as space
heralding snow
the ocean swelled indifferently in the dry cold night
and a healthy breeze for drifts began to blow
I wondered how many houses would face power cuts tonight
how many trees would topple under an icy weight
how many birds would die without
the warm dry ground
and where the insects went to
the cars about the town were making a different sound
like the whistling of an airstream
and not a living soul around
the marina's rattling chains and the swaying streetlights' creak
eerie as any phantom
or sea-witch in lace
as repetitive as the memory of the time you saw her face
and sharp as the reasons you came here
the decision you came to make
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