Wilderspool Causeway

I followed it over the new school,
a spire touching fingertips with God,
and temporary traffic by Sol Jol Park –
the syntax of the wind.

I thought about its temporary graces
collapsing vessels in rubicund faces,
setting down a hoarding or Caution:
Changed Priorities Ahead sign –

the syntax of an isolated gust shifts a cedar in the dusk.

That’s the power between spaces and dots,
an ellipsis gone before we cycle through the verbs.
Now the hills are not quite full stops

in contrast to the highest city peace walls;
The syntax of the wind finds fraternities of silence

in lowland weather systems
we can’t see meeting.