Red sand rock
Hollow hung
over hangs
black sand banks
tidal silted mud

Crows carp and pick
up bits and pieces
food for thought
old penny claws

Gannets flap on struts
Old Dutch barge bobs
with the draw of
direction of the
old Fathers walk

Strings of cross it paths
float bedecked and bejewelled
with lights and tarmac
and the rolling gate of man

The Moon Sits
somewhere between Full
clouds drag themselves by
To much light
so the Stars remain dim

Night nearly always light
Darkness never
fully landing

The citys breath gently
holding it back
never deeply sleeping
never truly resting

It waits it moves
Its shakes
Up
all around its mass
Spins hubs of Interaction
as water runs through
This city runs its
last
far out to sea

This Island city
turns and spins
convulsions with convictions
Beyond Morality

This living wheel
of this Emerald Land