Turning Point

It was only a fractional movement
Of steel under my feet on the San Francisco dock.
With ringing bell and clatter the tram
Turned on the opposite line.

Continents earlier:
'It's Edward. . .'
Your pause was fractional;
You recovered quickly.
'Off your radar?'
'Not at all!'
But the points had changed.
Your heart was singing
In an opposite direction.

And now I stand in the glinting sunlight
Of a distant dock.

San Francisco Easter 2014