In memoriam Evan Evans (1984-2013)
I walk down to the sea path –
rust on horse chestnut leaves
unprepared, this still day, to fall.
Fishing boats file across the bay –
astern, black flags
clear in the low afternoon light.
Crow, hands in pockets,
scorns to hurry away –
from the gorse that’s lost its yellow,
a stonechat’s critch.
At the summit I turn east –
a steamcloud shaken from the steelworks
unwhitens in the windless air.
By the blue railings at Knab Rock
I stand where you stood –
on the edge of the family photo.
Blonde fringe, eyes declined,
too-long T-shirt, bare knee bent –
your white socks bright in the high sun.