The village now has broadband:
it’s easy to work from home,
to cut and paste a spreadsheet,
play with the Xbox,
reel in, on a short cyber-thread
a boxvan from the nearest town
laden with super-fruit and exotic bread.
Some still walk out, stand at the clifftop, stare
to that point short of the horizon where
the sea heaves in its unfathomable depth
and tugs our stomach down.
We look round now and we’re adrift,
well out of sight of land.
Barry Gray lives in Bristol. A few of his poems were published in the early 1970s but then he took a 25 year break from writing poetry. His more recent poems have appeared in various publications including SOUTH and The Curlew.