Perth on the road to Skye 

 The world is suddenly divided like cast stone 

As cars pass by centuries of wisdom without noticing.

The mottled moths sit on the split rock

Look sky-ward knowing there might just be no answers. 

But we drive forward in this world as we do

Mowing the lawn, collecting the leaves, 

Driving the buses, missing the thieves.

It all leaks in a linear way forward.

The steeple that hides now behind this aching rock 

Reminding me that things never do improve

But the lights of the cars in that distance 

Remind me too, that they can move. 


1st June 2012