From the horizon, the sky falls dark, wind increases.
More than a threat now, yet; “Let’s go out.”
Push against nothing, though the way is made well,
past the old houses, no parking at the shark fin.

Nearly at the watch, spun in confusion,
face stung relentless , legs running wet.
Follow downhill, by the thick walls,
of gorse, a long made muddy path.

Granite stone plateau, four-square huers hut.
Abreast you shelter, where a rusted iron rail
secures you safe. Hard against the rain,
lies the memory of distance, but no horizon.

Stronger by the minute, the rain burden heavy.
Out to sea the lighthouse stands, buried in foam.
Anchored by fear of flight, you’re pushed leeward.
Seeming safe for now, it cannot last.

Up the cliff the waterfall rises, nature in reverse,
confusion reigns. You cannot hear for the wind and
the sea land shake. Turbulent air, squall hard
with rain and hail, cries like child.

Then to risk it all, to slip your iron mooring.
Your back to the wind, turn your heart
from the safely and hasten away.
To be rushed and punished up to the brow.

Wet through, the rim shot crack of waterproof,
gives way to a vengeful pummel and thump.
For a second the wind flies over, as you look back
to the grey eternity, with no horizon.

Follow