Behind our house a curve of railway track,
beyond, a wooded landscape, rising steeply.
I crossed the tracks and wondered through the blackened
scrub, I found a path, and followed, keeping
to its twists and turns. The landscape changed,
misty grey then openness. A tiny
path emerged, departing from the main,
delicate, above, the tranquil sky,
I followed, soon a view of distant hills.
Why am I writing this? Beyond
our world is something more. Or this – infilled.
Reality. When lovers sense a fondness,
their individuality transformed, what is
becomes what will be, and will be what is.
For Jacob and Belinda, on their wedding day.