Monday, 9 March 2009


Pushed home by the reckless wind
sand flurries keep me company
swirl around my feet
as I am jostled along. 
Low to the ground, 
they run riot
like a river estuary ignores
the pale blue gridlines of a map. 
They dance
luge through fantasy canyons 
on the black runway of the promenade. 
In a lull of the windblast
I hear them sighing.