more carefully now
than the child I can still hear
behind me
who ran heedlessly
wind and salt in her hair
across the fern-warm
seagull-calling cliffs
Ahead of me
I glimpse the crone
staff in hand
facing the unchanging horizon
a pocketful of mumbles
such are promises...
But for now the present
moment
is wild enough
dog at my feet
is wild enough
I taste with pleasure
the seasalt breeze
as our walk
turns us home
