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pilot

A PARABLE

Ynys Goredd Goch, Menai Straits © Sylvia Selzer 2008

 

For Caroline Reeves

 

We pulled into the lay-by above the straits

so that our friend could see the view: Telford’s

iconic suspension bridge, beyond

the Carnedd Range and, below us, Ynys

Goredd Goch, Red Weir Island – a house,

out-buildings, disused fish trap, slipway –

surrounded by The Swellies, tidal whirlpools

and surges driven by the rocks and shoals.

 

A small crowd had gathered in the lay-by.

On the island, there was a smaller group.

Suddenly, there was the dull pulsing

of rotors. A Sea King arrived. Someone

in the crowd said someone in the crowd said

a drowning swimmer had been rescued

by someone on the island – and someone else

said the Sea King’s pilot was the heir to the

heir to the throne. How we do love the stuff

of legend! The swimmer, whoever he was,

was an ignorant fool. The pilot and crew,

whoever they were, were skilled, brave and selfless.

 

 

 

A NEIGHBOURHOOD OF STRANGERS

Buzzards splayed their wingtips against the sun.

A Phantom entered the glacial valley,

its fuselage burning – the pilot

and crewman still at the controls, their choice made.

In school, it was story time – magical

oak woods, changelings secreted. The children

heard a rushing like oceans. Their teacher

saw the fire approach and two young men,

with a hundred years of technology,

burst upon the huddled village’s

common land… Children dreamt of foreign men

gone to dust in a golden fire for a

neighbourhood of strangers.