the wind is howling
around mountains and across the valley
it’s dark earlier now 
and I’m further than ever from the sea
but closer to dreamtime 
in an almost constant twilight 

we are the stars of this in-between time
imagined and remembered 
enough to hang a whispered wish on

on a hill
near the sea
the wind
and birdsong
replied 
to the woods 
the delight of days
and calm of night 
and said 
we could carry them 
whenever we go
as long as we go

wheels speeding along the tracks 
tearing through wheat fields 
and dingy little towns 

always a shadow behind 
while everyone else moves forward 
there’s an imagined nostalgia 

years ago it was a bus depot
with wool coats and coin operated tvs
and a glorious smell of diesel

an ever-shrinking circle of family 
after setting anger and hurt aside 
leaving a gaping wound but peace 

inside temperature-controlled bubbles 
watching the world pass by 
connecting with trees as the rest is a blur