Now we're up on the edge

and over, on the mountain

with mountains beyond. Behind us,

            in the dark

of the valley, villages are embers

Here now skyline assembles fire.
The sun collects up to leave.
Its bright following paled,
suddenly all goes. Dusk rushes
in, like door closed on windowless room.

There is a place (believe me,

            she said) where if, if

                          you go beyond

the street lights, to the lane's end,

                   ...not white like the snow

more moon-panther or silvery cloud-cat

with her ripple-patterns melting as (oh,

but she's beautiful) you stare

I spied a small lonely boy.
I was his beautiful red balloon,
from morning through to noon,

Behind you
Windrush child
palm trees wave goodbye

above you
Windrush child
seabirds asking why

around you
Windrush child
blue water rolling by