It's
been a grey day, cloudy day,
with
hints of dripping, greasy rain,
but now
the early evening's here,
white
streaks of clouds on pale, pale blue,
and pale
far green on cliff-top heights
have
caught, now hold, a tender sun,
shade
making sun along the coast
of
rising land edge, sea's black wall
that's
crowned with distant whitened gems
of
Bigbury, its nestling homes,
Burgh
Island standing sentinel
to watch
the tides invade the sand.
A
thought invades the mind, now seen
the
coastline's length and rocky strength,
how
figures two had recent walked
its
windswept head, its rise and fall,
with
weary feet and bodies tired,
two tiny
forms now snug at Hope,
to watch the restless evening sea
through hotel window, sipping tea.
By Martin H. Perry - October 2014
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