The image has stayed with me since last summer

when we sat on the restaurant’s terrace

sipping Prosecco with our small family

to celebrate our first fifty years

of marriage: a view I had not seen before

of these straits I thought I knew so well

between Ynys Môn and Gwynedd’s coast,

a view – past Bangor Pier and Gallow’s Point,

over the Lavan Sands and Dutchman’s Bank

hidden beneath the high tide’s guileful waters –

to the rose horizon, and Liverpool Bay

out of sight with its wrecks and wind farms.

And I felt then – relaxed with the balm

of the sun, the wine, and those I am

lucky enough to love – and know now

with the wisdom of a year ever closer

to that untravelled bourn, how, irrespective

of the heart’s gazetteer, its topography,

all love comes unbidden like the elements.