rare visitor

The Peggotty house, upturned wreck, a caravan-cum-igloo, nursery railway, a bucket of shingle and drift, immutable fishermen, tarred soles, upright sleepers, the lavateria the common ragwort where cinnabar caterpillars feed turning strangely from black and yellow to black and red and winged; where he scoured the ballast pit and the willows for migrants she hurries through the gorse through ragwort and viper’s bugloss the teasels the broom the purple loosestrife I name them in trust the tormentil sweet alison looking for the lakes that have wandered, apparently; and on this anniversary they haven’t heard of him round here he has left it all to us, the nuclear light, the unlikely heat, the fissures in the carapace, the brand-new, child-friendly, hands-on Observatory a short walk from the car-park.

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