the southern coast of Portugal

sailing 6 miles off the southern coast of Portugal

heading for Gibraltar

and the anxious arms of an urgent Hercules

where the Atlantic and the Mediterranean embrace

in a swelling disturbance

which old salts know so well,

keeping an eye on the shipping lanes,

the ferries splashing north and south.

on the hard, ladies dress in traditional costume

and the Spanish men wear baggy pants and ties,

drinking lunch among the smells and spices

of narrow streets and goat cheese.

Barcelona bound, eventually,

but the lure of a British territory is strong,

if only for a cup of tea,

as the light burns dimly in the west.