Walking among the clenched fists
Of Galloway basalt and schists,

I count the stars that spray the sky
Then think to play a bird and fly.

(Why does imagination take
Funny turns reason wouldn’t make?)

Arms flail in space and vertigo
Draws its deadly undertow:

I crash with that enormous hearse
Astronomers call the universe.

This poem was written a long time ago. I still enjoy it for its use of rhyme and its swists and turns - something offered by using rhyming couplets. The rhyme also allows for a punch at the end. I think it is taken from a real experience and certainly we have all felt the whirling giddiness induced by throwing back ones head and meeting the Milky Way but I seem to remember that I wanted to make the ending happy - maybe this poem is a case of teleology lead by rhyme!