Also, this morning
The tide landing on the shore
Before the hotel guests have risen
To stroll down the promenade
In search of the Western Morning News
The printing presses
Having been plugged in and primed
Somewhat in the dead of night
Their servants, or masters
The journalists
Having put their work to bed earlier
The church stands empty
Empty and silent
Waiting for the prayers
Of absent congregations
Who nevertheless, occasionally need
These pillars of faith
With their prayer bowls
Of pebbles, flowers and sea water
With their dank, damp graveyard
Collections of yesteryear
And all those many other years
From so so many generations before
Soon we will board the ferry
And cross the river
To land on the seafront
Of a town also just awakening
Yet not for some, especially those who wonder
What is the purpose
