I sat after summer
the crazy feast over
the dirty plates washed put away
and then the rain had come
looking down from my window
seeing below from the dune
I watched it
make countless circles on the sea
no-one there to witness
but me

I looked back at myself
high up in the old house
teetering on the sand
wondering if this winter
would play its final hand
and felt the shadow of winter
creeping on
creeping up the stair

There was no-one below
my mad viking had to go
and gone the renters
gone the flowers
gone the insects
just the empty house
and its shadows

Now witnesses nightly
pass my way
in the mystery of their parade
I look them
in their cruel collective eye
as upon the rising wind
to Long Point beach
they ride

And now the wind rising
moves against the pane
I look inside
see months to come
come slowly pass
and watch the gulls outside
turn and look
they see not fish
but shadows in the glass

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