of troon

and so i came to
troon
to live astride a railway line
or so it felt
when rushing trains
made haste to or from
another place
further up
or down
the line
the sea birds still hovered
overhead
and mournful cried
of weather less
than perfect
with streets frost white
the naked trees
flaunt gnarled skeletons
against the winter skyline
in the evening dark
a distant fog horn calls
across the misted waters
of the far harbour

Copyright © 2009 by Eryll Oellermann