Letter Writers

We both write letters, Niall and I

Mine are to my sister, mostly,

His are to the seabed.

I use proper envelopes,

the ones that are self-adhesive.

and the stamp has King Charles on it and a bar code.

His envelopes are small glass bottles,

some green, sone clear glass,

sealed and waxed at the neck.

His letters are maps

marking where the fox dens are, the burrows and bird’s nests,

things that the ocean might not notice.

 It’s the land’s landscape.

My letters, my landscapes, are the everyday things I do in the week.

Maybe I mention nature – trees I’d like to climb 

and the darker days that I don’t like so much.

I don’t ask if she wants to know about them,

those everyday challenges,

but it helps me to spell them out

He tosses his bottles into the sea,

hoping the tides and currents will take them to America.

I walk a few hundred yards to the post box.

I wonder how many letters are inside,

and whether one day the post office will count the letters.

decide it’s not worth their while collecting them and

pull up the box.

His bottles return to him, unopened, until he opens them himself  

My letters are answered with news of football matches, struggles with diabetes and where the roadworks in the village are.

We both write letters, Niall and I.

because someone needs to mark the passing days

to remember

before we forget

(inspired by ‘The Letter Always Arrives at its Destination’, by Niall Campbell)