The Tower at Lammas

‘Woke last night to the sound of thunder.’

I catch myself

counting one, one thousand, two, one thousand,

after each lightning strike.

‘Nowadays the world is lit by lightning-

how frightening.’

Falling, falling falling,

as if in a dream,

the falling that wakes me from my sleep.

I catch myself and

wish that I dreamt more of flying then falling.

‘Falling and calling your name’ out loud,

I catch myself.

Dreams of Italy,

vertigo at the Domo in Florence;

Dreams of the Cathers in the south of France, falling.

‘Ashes to ashes we all fall down.’

I catch myself.