Sight Of The Wind
Alfreda Benge / Robert Wyatt
We could hear it
Before the shutters were open
The wind on the beach
Then we found
Miniature sand dunes
On the concrete of the balcony
And a dead leaf, zig zagging
Scratching an urgent message in Sanskrit
Before hitching a ride on a frisky gust
A plastic bag caught by a rail
Rearing to go
In such a flap we see it free
To join a page of last week's news
Racing high above the undulating beach
And the invisible flying sand
Casting a fast moving shadow
Stroking the beach clean
Yesterday's footprints vanished
Replaced by smooth rippling
Wave formations, a copy of the sea
No one walking
Not even the dogs
A day for the rubbish to dance