Category C bail violation
The night of his arrest I climbed a hill
to find a deep cave in which to hide
as reality reset, such shifts too frequent
now, and rarely for the better,
an abject pattern emerging, as when
raindrops flow across a waxen leaf.
I emerged at the elephants’ graveyard,
a rock dolmen on a moorland hilltop
above a green vale, the kind of place
a weary soul might lay a burden down,
recall an aged friend who lost his way,
raise a chipped glass to auld lang syne.
Laurence Morris works in academic libraries and is a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society. His poems have been published in Blackbox Manifold, High Window, Snakeskin and Scottish Mountaineer.