The boat sloshed your ginbelly
We rode the short bitterwind
Every joint groaned and rolled
Like cormorants we swallowed
Stones to bridle our waters
It were early and the island
Had been alone all night
Left to play all by itself
You asked the names of things
At this hour, I did not know
On the ruined picnic bench
A left redness from a fieldmouse
Sundered by moonlight,
You asked if it felt pain
There was no real question
We, strangers at the dinner party
Were left to feed from our own paltry bag
The jackdaws swaggered toward
Like out of work actors - coldly
Eyeing flesh, currant and crumb
Ahead, the signposts had been turned
The guidewords were all torn out
& old Baden Powell under
The thicket, barked orders
At the roots, I said it and we were lost
Our feet heavy in this muddy Eden,
Bluegreen fungi leered from swollen oak
We tripped on lichen log, the bracken
Hogged the clear beads of rain
Sharing is not in this nature
Found once again when rude colours
Exploded onto the shore and this shy wood
Retired into itself, the paths retrod,
The signs repainted, someone baked bread,
The world begins its recording
The hidden land recedes into itself
