Handover

Rat Island

There is a profound change taking place.

The sun, pink from the exercise of the day

is exhausted, ready to dip into the horizon.

Just me and thirty-odd sea birds perched

on matchlegs stare out at the bleeding sky.

Behind us the moon, a perfect tissue circle

is beginning to rise. It is the handover

between separated parents. The child –

hula-hooping – doesn’t notice her pink suitcase

moved between cars, or the quiet words

as they watch her hips rhythmically beating,

keeping the spin in balance.

They exchange practicalities, simple messages.

The base of the sun fizzes orange into the sea.

Birds stand till the final moment

in this tiniest of ceremonies.

And the handover is complete, the grass

will loose its redness, the sea will start to shuffle

as the moon, whitening in the purple sky

climbs up through the gears.