The flagging cadence of the seasons motors round:
One year on. But my turning mind
Stays charged with the ascents and crossings to be found
Within that time. You, disinclined,
When urged to step towards the Mayan sun
Up the pyramid of Chichen Itza; and you,
Sick of the mighty High Atlas journey begun
Below, but regretless in Ouarzazate. How through
The sea’s grey swatch to Inishboffin we went
Sounding out — though still greenish mariners — past
Every rock to the edge of the map; and finally, pent
Over Prague’s Charles Bridge, we tuned ourselves (Ma Vlast).
This year, then, we have been linked by a new-forged ring,
Plugged into love — and switched on like anything.
One year on. But my turning mind
Stays charged with the ascents and crossings to be found
Within that time. You, disinclined,
When urged to step towards the Mayan sun
Up the pyramid of Chichen Itza; and you,
Sick of the mighty High Atlas journey begun
Below, but regretless in Ouarzazate. How through
The sea’s grey swatch to Inishboffin we went
Sounding out — though still greenish mariners — past
Every rock to the edge of the map; and finally, pent
Over Prague’s Charles Bridge, we tuned ourselves (Ma Vlast).
This year, then, we have been linked by a new-forged ring,
Plugged into love — and switched on like anything.
(14.12.1996)
