The Lighthouse Keeper – Rose Cook

I was checking the dates of the Start Point Lighthouse open days and it reminded me of the lovely meeting with the lighthouse keeper there many years ago.

The Lighthouse Keeper

He smells of oil and Windolene

and is just about to be made redundant

by automation. He’ll show you 

the model ship he made from used matches. 

It took a long time.

His tower-base room is browned gloss paint 

and pipes. 

Green stairs pile above us now

curving up and up 

like hopes, like smoke,

like whispers creeping thinner.

He is eager to connect,

the way he offers tea,

the way he floods the saucers.

He is sorry there are no biscuits,

but we can see the Light Room.

It isn’t on now of course but

so exciting just the prismed glass

layered like hard roses 

polished ready for the stone-lonely turning of the night

and the winking beams bowled to some distant eye.

In the old days they used candles,

but now the generator sees to it.

There is enough power to light a ballroom.

He’s going to miss sitting up here of a night,  

working shifts to make sure all is ship-shape,

the wild sounding of the wind,

the gearing clicks, 

the sea always at a roar outside,

the harassed rocks,

the metal tick of the timer.

Mostly he’ll miss the stars.

Rose Cook

Rose Cook