His habit is watching scenery
Changing at the bend,
The view lying back encircling
Its dishevelment with an arm.

Or watching a waterfall
Silently on film, jumped shots
Leaving him unsplashed.
It is visiting a Sussex castle

Where he pictures the skirmishing
Of frightened soldiery.
It is any crowd he sees
In profile, fathers and sons anonymous

As collectors’ coins. He observes
The cheerful blindness of flowers
That seem to know him but go on
Nodding when he has passed. His habit

Is standing outside and seeing
His cupped gaze in the glass,
A seafarer photographed
Against the adventure of the sky.

Out over the noisy sea
Signals intermittently wink
Green or red, suggesting
Someone prepared to wait,
But in the darkness eventually go out.