I can’t remember what we talked about
just a feeling of time being short
of not wanting to squander it
we drank beer in the winter sun picked out
the familiar landmarks that dot the horizon
the mast on Windy Hill the power-lines
on Blackstone Edge
I’m not sure when we first saw the balloon
but all of a sudden there it was
like a red button in the sky
so close you could almost press it
drifting slowly (there was hardly any wind)
over Hebden Bridge down in the valley
towards Heptonstall on top of the hill
and we walked over the moor
(the children running on ahead)
remarked on the remains of two sheep
reduced to bones and wool
on the patterns in the ice that filled
the channels through the peat
and when we looked back
we could still see the balloon
.
Dominic Rivron
.