Poppies

Leaving the path,
with individual steps into the undergrowth
and the unsteady ground below.
Behind us, the darkening woods.
Behind that, the forgotten city.
Ahead, the unseen sea.
But now,
at the fields edge,
there are poppies in the twilight.

Pebbles I - III

I


Evening sunlight
through my cabin window
lights a square of my bunk.
Distant voices wander in the open door,
footsteps in the corridors,
as I turn another page.


II


A light breeze,
cold for July,
blows off the sea.
Altered little,
it goes on it's way.


III


Morning sunshine,
in the absence of branches,
throws the shadows of pipework
upon the grating.
Somewhere above, an alarm rings
and valve tags rustle in the breeze.