TURN

I am only now aware again &ndash; the end is both that and the beginning. A tired turn on a rain-swept beach, barely remembered footprints mapping a reluctant return, become the start just this side of monotonous &ndash; a soft repetition &ndash; until the path is suddenly swept new by the surf and attention again is required. Morning light lifts behind a curtain of cloud. A distant dog herds a…