ANSKA

On the estuary we found the black clay the same day we found the first berries. I made promises to myself. There was a dress that I had thought of as ‘blackberry dress’ and I kept it folded in a loose ball in a cupboard. I used this At a similar time, I saw a wonderful thing. A bird flew low to a large mint metal flat roof. Its shadow followed it closely and suddenly dropped to the ground like a line of soot falling. This was spoken to a small empty shelf in a bedroom Then it moved. On a walk alongside the estuary, I walked away from the tide coming in and heard lovely rhythms on a metal roof. I remember when there is fabric involved. I remember the children on the sand, one’s pale blue coat with diamond patches lying across my legs. I remember vividly the arrangement made along an electricity line by someone I do not know but feel I see often. It must be her house. Clear short lines, or tubes line it, facing out into to the cool air in every direction. Sun, sun, light, lines, the lines stay in my head, the sun stays in the lines. I’ve waited for Winter to write. Sarah Boulton