Portobello, Friday the 13th

This poem and the photo are by my sister, Sue Bard, who lives in Portobello, Edinburgh

At 10pm I hear the exit poll

and everything’s in free fall.

All night

the news drifts in and out:

chickens chlorinating in the pool,

untreated 19th Century diseases,

a gated promenade,

the planet melting and burning.

In the still-dark dawn

I walk along the prom

watching the darting dog will o’ the wisps

down where the waves break.

I do my forty lengths

sluicing away the night’s jabber.

Coming back, it is light;

six swans single-file,

children on their way to school

on scooters

and the café is putting its tables out.

Sue Bard 13.12.19.