They sold ale here long ago,
To miners and travellers,
This ancient kiddleywink
Maintaining a vigil over
The crossroad hedges.
I take a winding lane past
A slope of straggle-eared
Wheat, through a dark
Cathedral tunnel of oak,
Beech and elm, past the
Mining way where weary
Cousin Jacks once walked,
Dreaming of New World
Lives an ocean's sail away.
On, then, down Green Lane,
Where golden corn meets
Blue water meets bluer sky,
To the cliffs that loom
Above the sand and rocks
That story-boarded my
Childhood adventures of
Wreckers and pirates,
And above the tunnels from
Caves to twisty cottages
Cradled in the granite.
On to the moor, high
Above the beaches
Where revenue men
Fought smugglers for kegs
Of rum and gin, and crates
Of tea and tobacco from
Magical lands, where shaggy
Ponies chew the grass and
Watch those passing by
With lazy curiosity.
Further on, sheep, beyond
The dips and climbs that
Drain lungs and legs
And test the heart,
Smile furtively, before
Shuffling slowly cross the
Meadow, a late August's
Morning sun beating down
On wool-laden backs.
And by the crumbling path's
Edge, a scent of low tide,
Of salt-crusted grass and
Fresh sea breezes, lifts
Me out of my thoughts
And causes me to smile:
Pleasure in such simplicity.
By the roadside Café I
Pause, tea and frozen
Orange to slake a thirst, and
I think back on the years
I have walked these paths,
The company kept from
Time to time, though,
Ruefully, I acknowledge,
More often alone than not.
And as I strike out on the
Final miles, I pass the vicious
Maw where once a foundered
Trawler's bell tolled its haunting
Requiem for those that
Drowned one stormy night,
But, where rust and waves
Have silenced even that
Lonely memorial, all that
Remains are the memories
Of those of us that knew.
Through fields of cattle and
Over stiles, and on and on,
I climb the final headland
Until a gleaming jewel,
The island lighthouse, presents
My exhausted journey's end.
Satisfied, I make my rest and
Wonder: why this walk, year
After year? Why this stretch
Of coast above all others?
Why the peace from so much
Toil? Is it just the promise of
The sea's refreshing churn?
No matter why, I smile, and
Close my eyes to dream a while.
YOU ARE READING
Fragments And Reflections
PoetryPoems looking at everything and anything not in my other collections. Here you'll find life and time, wild oceans and lonely coast paths, busy streets and empty hotel rooms, wild concerts and late night writing. All just fragments and reflections, l...
