The Curve of the World

Summer breathes
through marram grass, salt-tough
where the southerly whips in
off the Pacific, light &
shadow all the way out
to the distant smudge
of albatross feeding—at night
you see lights dance,
squid boats fishing
the same spot.
The larger ships, too,
follow the albatross road,
tall towers disappearing
beneath the curve
of the world …

The wind sweeps in, recounts
tales of ships, albatross,
men with eyes bleached
to seams … tells
it all to the salt grass
and driftwood piled
into a beach fire—

smoke wavers upward
in a thin stream, dissipates
into the gulf
of sky.
.

(c) Helen Lowe

.

Published in JAAM 27: Wanderings, ed. Ingrid Horrocks,  2009

—

Last week, I sadly bade farewell to five years as part of The Tuesday Poem community. The farewell post from the community can be read on the Hub:

And I Know Now What I Didn’t Know Then

The Curve Of the World is a poem I feel captures the sense of journeys, but also of endings. So through poetry, I hope it may fittingly mark my salutation and farewell to The Tuesday Poem.