today
a hike through miura strawberry country
cabbage fields
melon flowers
garlic grass
the police dog-training center
and
a dozen pensioners picnicking drunk
in the remains of a ww2 ak-ak battery
we used to shoot americans once
said a mole-lipped geezer
(too close)
but
join us for a cup
some talk
out of the wind
if you'd like
one cup becomes two
becomes three
four
a test of character
- and tolerance -
for this welshman
thought american
when it comes to hiroshima
the tokyo trials sugamo
i make my excuses
stumble leave
beaten
down the hill
tipsily
downhill
drunk
to be honest
now
to the beach's kites
windsurfers
sand and sea spray
tsunami-warning-signs
remember miyagi
no comfort here
in these springtide gusts
this blown sand skittering
into eyes
rattled phone wires
tipped styrofoam
salt-scent
a washed-up dead fish
but
then
on both
sides of the busy road
spot
jizo statues
knit capped
cape draped
piled with surfers's shells
one for luck on the way
to the waves
one for thanks
on their safe
return
i add
my own holed stone
a gull feather
plucked from the sand
a quick truck
rattle
prayer
to make
some peace with the sea
a brown kite swoops
wings almost
close enough to brush
a sign or
just the shiny bell
on my rucksack
