It was always The Cabin

before her lectures

                coffee

                and Flic demolishing

                                The Times crossword,

                                sharing the clues but

                                writing the answers

                                as she read, smoked,

                                pushed her blond hair

   ...

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In the inky winter darkness

A rough track from the lane

Leads upward onto the mountain:

                A small glimmer hints at life

                and we wonder where we are being led.

Out of the blackness, a dark shape shows in the slight mist

                The lights in a window flicker dimly yellow

                and the smell of peat smoke drifts down in the still ai...

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