> Hello Colin,
              After a fairly straight-forward opening I found myself getting a bit lost in the narrative of this piece. I don´t really understand how I came to be upstirs amongst the mats, or picking my way between the cans and vomit. Who are/were those people? And then we were outside on the beach, with just the father and daughter(?) I was a bit lost. But then I´m often lost, and it may be that I´ve missed the point as well as my way, but it might be worth looking over whether your narrative makes clear the events you want to describe. Also, I would suggest changing the word order in line 2 to `the path is a line cut´ and in line 7 to `rounds bus-sized boulders´.
I hope this is useful.



Best wishes,   Mike



> Lähettäjä: Colin dewar <[log in to unmask]>
> Päiväys: 2004/02/14 la PM 09:16:27 GMT+02:00
> Vastaanottaja: [log in to unmask]
> Aihe: newsub/father and daughter
> 
> Father and daughter
> 
> The car parked,
> the path is a cut line
> through heather,
> skirts bogs where butterwort
> and sundew glisten
> and stick the drawn fly,
> rounds boulders bus-sized,
> left by retreating ice.
> 
> Cold air exhales from the sea
> and dragonflies are grounded,
> cling to grasses stiffly,
> Devil's needles of black-striped-green.
> He tells how rare
> to touch their hairy backs,
> run fingers on the edges
> of biplane wings.
> 
> The sea nears,
> then the bothy ringed by tents.
> Through the door, no space
> between mats upstairs
> and carelessly discarded kit,
> nor downstairs round a crowded fire.
> In the log room just
> a sliver of floor
> between the half drunk cans
> and the vomit.
> 
> Late afternoon
> and the sick's not swept.
> The pile of CD's speaks volumes.
> Then there's the huddle of people
> in the doorway
> with another fire, singing
> and the boat on the beach with fresh supplies.
> 
> On the shore
> she makes volcanoes,
> smoothes vented cones
> and pushes lava to the hissing foam.
> He lies
> spine into sand
> shaped, frowns
> on a flat, flickering sea,
> the high tissue of cirrus stilled, then says,
> 
> "They're nice people.
> They've come all this way
> so's not to disturb anyone,
> but they could be noisy
> and it might be best
> if we moved on."
> 
> Two bays along
> a canopy of birch
> leant on hour-glass sand
> is where they stop
> to unpack mats
> sleeping bags,
> eat sardines,
> and watch the sides of Rosbhein redden,
> the otter's snake back
> in the kelp disappear
> till she opens her Narnia book,
> to read of uncovered land.
> 
> Light fades. Night becomes sound,
> each wave
> like a jug of water
> tipped over
> then up again.
> 
> Gulls call,
> dawn wind puffs from the sea
> and still he can hear
> so faintly it's like he dreams
> the thumping of titans
> quarter of a mile away.
> 
> She wakes
> when sun falls on her face,
> sits to drink milk
> mixed from powder and water,
> packs and is ready to go.
> He remembers dragon flies,
> sand cones, her den in earnest,
> and says then,
> "You lead the way",
> sensing how sure her feet
> on the path home.
> 
> 
> Colin
>