Looking out on the Menai Strait

The viewpoint is deserted.
The sky a pastel chart.

Beneath the bridge the Swillies gargle,
Fish traps bob like U-boats.

The glaciers are gone but the air is deathly still.
Text messages haunt like Ouija.

This age has brought me to the sea,
To this black gorge.

I stare down at the swelling call,
At the rocks that rise like humpbacks.

Car headlights glare intermittently,
Searchlights arcing.

Soon nothing will be seen,
The moonlit door in the open water.




Colin Bancroft is currently in exile in the North Pennines where he is finishing a PhD on the Ecopoetics of Robert Frost. His pamphlet Impermanence was published by Maytree Press in 2020 and he runs the poets information site www.poetsdirectory.co.uk