Thirty minutes
before I asked you,
we looked out
from Westbury Hill.
On the summit,
winds burst
with clumsy shudders.
We could hardly stand,
even our laughter,
like smoke,
was whipped clean away.
Fresh faced
and as one shape,
we parried
over-eager gusts
masquerading
as a gale.
I should have asked you then,
of course,
not in the car,
returning.
But perhaps,
that half hour
blown,
high above the plain,
was a whittling,
to finally
fit each other,
so everything could change.
— Published 27th October 2018
About Julian Cason
Julian has two jobs. He works both as a lawyer and as a poet. Within a law firm, he helps the victims of historic asbestos exposure. As a poet he explores the joys, crises and banalities of life. Born and raised in Cardiff, Julian returned to the city after studying at Oxford University. Most recently published in Envoi, edition 177 October 2017.