You too

You too

Could be inquisitive

In the way that Dennis is

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Rounded stones

Rounded stones

Rock solid

Rustic French accent

A stronger breeze

Kickstarts

The waves of late summer

Follow the flags

And the bunting

As the ship sets to sail

Already

The luggage containers

Are being loaded

As the queues form

Leading away

From our idyllic escape

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Movements

Movements

Also stillness

Quiet

Yet not quite silence

Shops, cafés

And a signpost

To the harbour

Or to the visitor centre

With its sedum roof

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Without resignation

Without resignation

Yet not to celebrate

Simply

To take the next steps

Wherever they lead

With hope

In the ascendency

As joy and love

Call you to be at their side

Or at least they press you

To explore

Outside of your, self-limiting, comfort zone

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Lamb & Mint

Lamb & Mint

In a sausage roll

With or without

Deli-coleslaw

How is it to be

Setting out

How is it to be

Returning

Each to leave

An empty house

As we go away

On our vacation

How is it to be

Growing old

How is it to be

Recollecting youth

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IOS

IOS

Logo

For all things

Isle of Scilly 

IOS

On T-Shirts

Sweatshirts

And wrist bands 

IOS

On steamships

Rowing boats

And heliport shuttles 

IOS

Symbolic

Of Island life

For the holidaymakers

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Now here

Now here

Know where

To belong

For way longer

Than you thought

Making out

You are

Staying in

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We are approaching

We are approaching

Old Town

Which is a place

Definitely a place

But there’s nothing there to do

This afternoon

There is an Old Town Inn

And an Old Town Café

But both are securely closed

I’m quite happy

No you are not

It probably thinks

That you are an Agapanthus

We could hire

A buggy tomorrow

To see more of the island

But why

Why would I want to do that

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Moss

Moss

Moss and

Lichen

All over the tree

Wildlife

Ponds neglected

Neglected

By the likes of you and me

September Sunday wetlands

Wetlands for the lonely

The quiet

And the outlandishly free

One stick per person

To prod, prod

To release the inquisitive

Inside of you and me

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There will just be a wait

There will just be a wait

The first words she uttered

Just like Loudon’s grand-daughter

When hat, that’s what she muttered

And the Birmingham accents

Are already wingeing, in the way

That only they can, and do

Portents of black country grey

Later summer in the Scillies

Sun, sand, sea and sea

Late autumn with the hillbillies

Scornful of those living simply to be

Yesterday the wedding party

Today the hangover service

All the cakes are taken

Except a muffin to purchase

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Sunday morning showers

Sunday morning showers

Will the cricket match resume

Vases of flamboyant flowers

The bunting flaps in tune

History is as history is

So another one departs us

We fawn and kneel to kiss

In life of life we trust

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The rain is falling

The rain is falling

It has fallen through the night

Apparently

We cannot do anything about it

Except of course

To sit in the drawing room and write

Or read about the Italian

Who built this house

Before it became a hotel

The single chandelier

Casts its light

Down the pale green walls

A reminder of the olive groves of Sicily

And the romance which brought him here

To the Isles of Scilly

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Looking

Looking

Out to sea

From your

Private place

Between two houses

Behind a street lamp

And beneath

A satellite dish

Do they work anymore

Do wedding guests

Still dance

To Dancing Queen

On a Saturday afternoon

At the beginning

Of the second week

Of September…

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You are

You are

Lovely

If

Just a little bit

Disorganised

Even we could say

Anxious

When working

Against the clock

But hey ho

We have found a bar

And you have

Volunteered

To get the drinks

Although the tab

Is likely

To be in joint names

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Up

Up

And down

Cutting

Quite a dash

On

And on

Pitching

And ploughing

Here

Then, sitting

Right now

Almost on the beach

For our Myrtle

1944-2021

Silently we sat by the sea swell

Knowing the pleasure

Of the howling wind

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On the main deck

On the main deck

By Muster Station ‘D’

Level with the swell

As we cut through the water

Travelling at quite a rate of knots

Past drilling rigs

And marker pylons

The TV is an old TV

And the passengers

Are mostly old

Because this is what we do

Cross places off

Of our bucket list

As if time alone

Is not time enough

Next year

A firm base

Solid with its solitude

Free from solitary loneliness

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The island

The island

Is free

From Dutch Elm disease

Though

What do I know

Of such a tree

Or its deathly illness

Why not stay for the summer

Here, there

Or anywhere

Why not stay now that you can

Yes, now that you can

For the very first time

One step left

Then take another

Quick step

Slow step

Finding love

In the repeat of commotion

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A line of clouds

A line of clouds

Cut, as with a knife

To rest

Flat side down

All the way along the horizon

Between that place

And this place

Twenty leagues

Or twenty fathoms of ocean

Now two birds

In unison flight

Outpace the boat

Of several hundred horsepower

We rise, we fall

We top, we tail

We have a pleasant trip

So the big screen reminds us

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The almost never-ending

The almost never-ending

Line of the horizon

As the ship

Sails perpendicular

At the absolute right angle

For time and distance

To be no time or distance at all

From the minor wave to the major swell

I am reminded of the rule of sevens

But, right then

Right there

A small fishing boat

With anchor dropped

On to the unseen sea bed says:

I am the one

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One boat

One boat

One man

One noisy noisy dog

One island

One man

One quiet quiet life

Say hello

Say goodbye

See you again tomorrow

Go now

Go downstairs

Find the love

Of early mornings

Sat at the kitchen table

With pen and paper

And a mug of tea

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Lights flicker

Lights flicker

Swell rises

Then falls

Now it is the engine's rotation

Which hums and vibrates

As we leave the land behind

As you have left

More than your land

Or your kingdoms

Sun falls

On the cabin window

Clear view

All the way

To the seamless horizon

Of sea and sky of sky and sea

In this moment

Alone again or

Wherever the beams linger

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There is an open-topped bus

There is an open-topped bus

On the hour

If it’s not raining

Other than that

It’s three-quarters of an hour

For the regular service

Somehow the folk

Look altogether older

Perhaps down here

They flew too near to the sun

In their youth

Whereas I stayed up north

But no

The open-topped route

Is finished for the day

How fortunate are we

To wait in this bus-station

While clouds and national

Cyclists routinely pass by

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It’s twelve o’clock

It’s twelve o’clock

Can you not

Hear the bells ringing

It’s a cool breeze

And only one hour

Until we enter

The open-air

Lido swimming pool

With geo-thermic partition

Are there lockers I wonder

What if we should lose

Our tickets to the Scilly Isles

I don’t expect

That it was this quiet

During the school holidays

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Where else but here

Where else but here

How far to go to be near

The evidence is awkward and queer

Though this is where I am my dear

The eight-seater is taking off

Snouts are already in the trough

Nobody’s tested but one has got a cough

It’s not champagne but it does have a froth

Where else but there

The runway to anywhere

A time that is all but exactingly square

Set out early, wear layer upon layer

Edging down the final straight

Fingers crossed we won’t be late

We did not pack, but signed in as freight

All together now: take care of the After-Eight

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It isn’t all about certainty

It isn’t all about certainty

Or even being sure

It’s more to do with doubts

And their escalations

He didn’t have charm

Or even charisma; always in a rush

Yet in truth achieving no more

Than his friendly, courteous colleague

Though perhaps he was in pain

Maybe his partner told him over breakfast

That their relationship was over

But he could still be a friend

What does that word mean

Friend; close friend, very close friend

How close can friendship go

Towards the boundary called intimacy

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Co-ordinates

Co-ordinates

Co-ordinated

In the one space

Endless silence

Endless conversations

Where are we

Without

Some form of communication

So why not write

To a loved one

Half a lifetime away

For to leave it to the gravestone

Or in the graveyard

That sentiment is way too late

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