The 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 set 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