Like a bent needle laid  against the earth

The path rises like an escalator on the Northern Line
Too steep especially for going down
Suppose my head was heavy and I leaned forward?
Better to die here in West Bay struggling up the cliff
With the gulls whirling and the waves dashing
And  the broad immensity of  this blue sky
He had a talent for mud and cliffs
Of coming down mountains at the wrong spot
So we had to jump down an eight foot wall
Not to mention paths that led through farmyards
Where vicious geese were waiting
It was cold then but we lay on our backs on the grass over the cliff
Freedom,space, immensity of vision
We slept with coats over the blankets and realised why the windows were small.
When we came back we could hardly bear the newspapers
But we got used to it
Sin seens normal if everyone does it.
That’s why Jesus came and went.
He was abnormal, not one for  the everyday
But he seens to be everywhere like the mist on a summer’s day
I like fog and we could lose ourselves in Jesus anywhere at all
Especially in a sea mist, silent and alone
The path is narrow and high
Like a needle laid  against the earth
With that eye