for Sanae

We walked until
late afternoon,
looking for leaps

in imagination,
legs straining against 
the trail of hills,

the notebook folded 
into my pocket.
Then, out of the air

in this train 
coming back,
a line writes itself

between islands,
one thought leading
to another,

about the audacity
of steel, say,
how it carries on

over tankers, trawlers, 
that ferry down there –
the one, perhaps,

we had rushed 
to catch, but missed 
the connection.