Wilderspool Causeway

Another day ends,
another dollar made was spent,
cycle unloaded, passage cleared
and coffee passed across the chairs.
We wash our face

and move at a slowworm’s pace
across the foothills of our hopes,
spinning so fast we stay in one place;
losing breath, questioning our reach,
emerging from Arctic tundra sleep
beneath clouds on an alpine massif
or aloft above Greenland,
crossing the sea for humidity,
palm trees and beaches.

Climbing mountains, not conquering them,
as living ellipses in black hole slippage
measuring space between luminescences,
camping and cooking wherever the purchase,
the co-ordinate on the continuum.