Sitting on the arse end of the island
On bench at
the beach
In the
drizzling rain
As clouds
close the horizon down
I can see a cormorant
flying low
Over the
grey waves
No sign of
any other land
Or anything
else
Though I know
that out there
People crammed
in flimsy rubber dinghies,
Wish they
could skim over the sea
Like that cormorant
And join landlocked objects,
Like me and that bollard.
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