And Now....

We sat beside the Bush,
indoors on the carpet,
my brother and I.

We thought it secret code;
felt like spies behind the
ironing curtain

draped over the
clothes horse - not too close
to the Parkray fire.

We listened with mother
to exotic place names
and what was in store

for them and brave sailors
venturing out to cold
Cape Finisterre.

We saw galleons - not
fishing boats - the moment
we heard 'and now the

Shipping forecast issued
by the Met Office on
behalf of the Maritime

and Coast Guard Agency'
at almost teatime before
dad got home from work.

Viking, hear the horns blow:
the twins North and South
Utsire in their Forties.

Cromarty - the Laird's ghillie -
holds Forth on the Tyne
of a steel tuning fork.

Dogger and Fisher chase
cats and give them a
sizeable German Bight.

Gale forces eight to ten
around the Humber,
(a Sceptre parked out front).

Thames - see state six - is that
Alabama? Dover so far
from Sole. Wight, Portland

and Plymouth holding it
at bay of Biscay
Trafalgar gives us an

excuse to cover one
eye. Lundy shows
us Puffins not books though.

Fastnet is tacked tight
to something but what?
Irish sea remains still

moderate or good, like
both of us. We are
not bad boys, not at all.

Shannon makes us think of
the girl at school with
the red hair and freckles.

Malin Minches Hebrides
we wonder why it's not
He Brides and sman.

Bailey never did come home,
and we see Fair Isle
as a sweater mum knitted.

Faroes live in Egypt
even we know that!
Southeast Iceland always

has moderate icing
like the cakes at a
church's bring and buy sale.

And now I've been to Rockall,
Dogger Bank, even
to the Hebrides.

And now the winds are gale
force blowing cold reason
across these memories.

And now? Finisterre's wild finger
in the Atlantic is called
Fitzroy: when I got

there I felt at home;
it really looks like
the end of the world.