The former path

There is a path by the sea

Where foam would spill over the wall

And over the way with soundless crash

Bringing with it pebbles and sand and breeze

 

Dusk would fall behind the horizon,

The pale face of the moon

Would adorn the waves

Of a clear black ocean

 

The path remains

But the nights are gone

Streetlights pollute the way

And walls keep back the foam

 

And off the shore, illuminated

Stands a farm of silent pale giants.

Industrial omens, spinning their arms in the wind

It's for our good we're told. Yes but so was the view.