The Atlantic booms on the pier.

 

Towering storm clouds pile up raggedly

like a wild woman’s hair

streaming across the bare shoulders of the hills.

Lucent sky-patches of turquoise and gold

reveal where the sun has just fallen

headlong into the galloping seas.

 

A half-moon rollicks like a drunken ship

in and out of the cloud-wrack

battering us with pearly lumps of light

and tatters of flying pitch

chucked indiscriminately over the orderly rooftops

- the neat, sanitized world of streets, shops, harbours

and the great raw mountains

crowding all around like Brobdinnagian Giants

hunched about their flickering hearth.

 

Just the right sort of moment, girl

to go for your Interview

to politely answer questions

and taking your heart out of your mouth

plonk it on the table - there!

Let the Elements do the rest.