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Sport 10: Autumn 1993

Camp Fires

Camp Fires

The first stars ... pale camp-fires gleaming
in a sky as black as west-coast sand. I'm
alone, as they say, but not lonely, knowing
that this dark tide slowly drifting out
(with the new moon stranded, but only for a moment,
like a yellow boat on banks of grey cloud)
is my own life quietly going nowhere,
its days deserted of bright ideas
and the last traveller home from Troy just landing
to discover his dog, long left to itself,
turning its back on a god descending
to dig for crabs and casually lift its leg.