An idea whose time has come

An idea: invisibly potent

A watery creek

A new and gentle breeze of ripeness

Felt by few

A red propeller spinning in the soil?

A sail – unfurled and flapping

Held fast with thin steel ropes

which ‘clack’, dull metal, at its imprisonment

Whose time: like the now-revealed spinning toy

Whirring in the wind

Unwraps, revealing shining teeth

Rotating gear, synchro-meshed

Engages, beneath everything, changing all

Has come to this:

The smug steel wires groan taut

And break…

The great mired ship slides free of oily, stinking mud

The jetty, rent like severed, ageing limbs,

Becomes confetti as the wind and sea

Too long unwed

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┬ęCopyright Stephen Tanham