Mervyn Linford - Poet   


Credo – Two Tree Island

Here, the tide is immediate:
it ebbs and flows uncannily –
swamps, or is high and dry,
before the mind can register
   its meanings.

A redshank holds my eye
and I perceive the ooze
that once was water
as my dominion.

These phases of the moon and all that changes –
that alters with its neaps and springs and slacks
defines I think my temporal derangement
   and all that’s lunar.

The geese are loud and black
and where they fly in loose unwritten lines
across the silent silver of the flats –
   there lies my madness.

I am a child of this place:
a wader without wings –
a mullet with warm lungs;
a whistling, featherless, widgeon.

A curlew flutes its isolate amen
and I must choose between the sane horizons