An old salt-filled estuary. That’s simple to see. You mauy talk of magic castles and clouds making shadows in the wind, but what’s the wind through the trees—a noise, no more than that. Such a house by the sea, and whatever it was for before, it stands now gutted, without windowpanes, doorless, a hole in its roof, before what was once a dock, aching in a foggy wind.
14 June 1972