First poem for the year; I don’t usually post poems here, but once a year can’t hurt! I wrote this about the path on Beleura Hill, that used to be be used by the nuns when they walked down from the convent to the beach. The convent is gone, and the block is being cleared and will be re-built on, but the path endured for a while longer.
The Primrose Way
‘to the everlasting bonfire’
Edged in stones and agapanthus,
each as resilient as the other,
it arches down to a space
where a gate was
Recoiling against the new idea of path,
not straight, but narrow,
winding between trees
that are tall now and shadow it all.
Walk the walk of the believers
the elaborately constructed curves
that lead, inevitably,
to a latched gate leaving,
entering the bare, uncharted
unblinking world of the sun.