There’s Wind Turbines in Poleglass
I swear to fuck there is.
Coming through Twinbrook
from behind I can see two
looking over the estate.
One is in the fore, geometric
white wings caressing
the ridges of roofs of a row
of pebbledashed terraces.
The other is more minute,
somewhere higher up
moving faster or maybe
it’s just further away.
I’m no good with physics.
Their slow and unsteady
triple wave matches pace
with the rainbow windmills
in the nursery school’s garden.
As I round the corner
of the primary school gates
and the grass grows deep
into ‘habitat kept for bees’
I am closer to my mummy’s
and another grows into view.
Small and speedy and greyed
in the thick of cloud halfway up
Divis and Black Mountain.
The other two are singular pegs
rising and falling in solo sweeps
over the estate’s horizon, now.
It would put you in mind of someone
standing behind a half wall of brick
and pretending they are walking
down pantomimed stairs.
It’s spitting now, lashing nearly.
I might have been home and dry
if only I’d've walked quicker.
