No-man’s Land (published Southword Vol.2 No.3 Summer 2000)
Down by the shore,
tangled lines of seaweed tossed
on the edge of high tide: no-man’s land.
A sharp wind
on the reeds’ chanter
beyond in the marsh.
The hope-less screech
of the heron
-the loneliest sound in the World,
echoing in my head.