When they say shout, snort vigorously,
stamp your feet, look enthusiastic:
give it your best, try to impress. Remember
your sterling work and the lonely camp fires
think of your mother and all that she did
and when they dangle you from the ceiling
think height, think mountains,
racing up the Herefordshire beacon
in thin air, skidding down in the cardboard box
that smells of apples.
Stand still while not standing still.
Sit up while climbing.
Lie down while not lying down.
Dream of knives and bullet-proof vests.
Your chest is a face, have you thought of that?
Looked at with this in mind, any landscape
becomes a friend.
The beach deserted except for an old crab. And I mean old.