Anstruther

How, where does it begin?
In the head? With the
extremities? you countable,
lovable digits, you fingers, toes
are you where it all starts?
Make a note: the train leaves
at 9.10 in the morning
for a city in a valley. I don't
know its name, who lives there.
No one does. There are old stories.
Many have lived remarkable lives.
                                                 Sawdust beach, amber moon,
                                                 sea moss, sifting herons,
                                                 lemony lime, piglet spill
                                                 crimson rock pools reflecting
                                                 things beyond reflection.
We fish for others.
We trespass.
We are beloved.

The Beach at Irvine

The seal disdains the rocks
to follow
the express lift shaft
down.

Up-periscopes
when it hears the fanfare
of the stage designers arriving
from olive-green
dreams.

The Photographer

We see things
you and I-

orange beech leaves

hills

skin of a pool

a lighthouse beam

of frost

Last updated March 2008