GOING TO EXTREMES: EAST

Right here is where the brand new day begins

Where blue takes over, painted on the map,

A portrait of an edge, a line, a flap

A moment in the bright world as it spins.

Fresh paleness spreads across the eastern sky

I run towards the blank page of the sea

To write across it, splash out ‘This is me!’

Beneath the morning sun’s unblinking eye.

East is always sunrise, always growing

Along a coast that’s reborn every time

The sky a stained-glass window in the sun

Until the high tide says ‘I must be going’

And turns and ebbs away like a lost rhyme.

The poem has ended. Dawn’s clean colours run.