Wednesday, 19 July 2017

between the eras, 19/July/17

through the fennel forest passed the ragged ragwort's random eyes, tall as you can imagine and taller...... through the prairie lyme grass dune scarred in colonnades... stepping onto softer sand to the beach beyond between the eras, milky-white the air, the sky, into which the sun is wont to burrow to avoid the heat still strangling the day... mountains reach and yawn and dip their paddling feet into the sea til they too run to ground..........
a bather here, three over there, two that bob like bottling seals, a scene pours in to fill the void uneasy sat between waiting and forgotten...... folded rocks rises up to scratch the clouds, composed, imposed upon the view, sheer cliffs and feral goats a silence framed in muted notes yet to find a stave on which to hang, sustain, refrain, anticipate with baited breath and bated hooks to snatch an echo from mid-air......
this is where you'll find the end of every sentence, crushed and weather-worn, they all come here to die, strewn among the silica and shells and fossils stamped on broken boulders between the sea and me...... gulls impose a knowing glance, voyeurs one and all they've seen the light of day for what it is for the first time in millennia...........
time has come around again but this time something's changed but still remains the same between the eras, overlooked
but not by me
not by me you see
I see you see
I look and see
the sea and what it leaves
as it rises
what it leaves
as it falls
as it recedes
how it grieves...........

© robert greig 2017

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