For my Grandfather

I wrote this short poem as a tribute to my grandfather Clive Dymond, who passed away when I was still at school. He was one of the true heroes in my life. The cool clear days of June in Sydney still remind me of him. They are typified by the high cirrus clouds that sweep across the vast blue sky. While the poem evokes a skyward movement, the word 'winds' actually refers not to currents of air, but to his gold watch that winds down the last minutes of his time on earth. (June, 1968)