the beach at rhossili
ripped by the west wind
serrated by the waves’ incessancy
a bay of fleece
grazing under the downs
steadfast as the one house
half way
fox-gloved
adder-snaked
warm-stoned
let your tired eyes drift away
horse riding across the bay
let your tides break on burry holmes
the wind tear your hair
un-scarf your day
shake and say
well here we are
here there and everywhere
martyn
between the spring tides
when the lifeguards arrived
and the autumn tides
when the lifeguards departed
he was dead
low tide we said
standing
in time perhaps
looking up to my father
every day i say to myself
my dad was this age once
looking down on myself
at his age
in time perhaps
but not now
for i am lost in this music
timeless at this moment in time
dad whistling good morning
at my age
in tune perhaps
in this green cwm
layers of time laid along a day’s walk
holograms ~ if you will ~ contoured and
burnishing every facet of the past
as tenuousness as time itself
they merge to produce a feeling of
being in and out phase with these halted stations
as brevity is noted along the longevity of thought
here we are adding our footsteps
a wisp of cool conversation mingled with
the voices of the past even if conjured up
for who will walk this way in future years
ask that and imagine the past asking that
as they personify our elation when
with our hands upon these memorial stones
we commune with the humanity
of times immemorial
as our learned guide
nods our bemusement to rest
quietly here in the shade
beneath these monumental trees
sand dunes
bracken heady
as we step steadily
along the rabbit paths
the wind pernickety
in the russet cornices
of this marram-grass sea
blue-beard cut-throats
grasp no cutlas
mind how you go
a parentheses of striped snails
punctuates our attentive gaze
for the flash of a lizard
on this wind-swept maze
who piled this sand here
on gower’s tip with
the weariness of slither
on sundown’s burning ship
up dune down dune
tired legs in layers on
this mirage of sahara
with its top-most gainsayers
next one next one but one
runs the dune’s egg timer
but at last we are there
and each in our own way
mouths Crème de la Mer
blue pool bay
a rough bay that some days is filled with fraught
on another day a calm bay when we aught
to look to see
if blue pool itself is under the sea
or is high and dry
to both we cry
oh no the wait
or yes yes we can go in straight
up where it sits as proud as a throne
where king trepidation sits all alone
then looks then leaps
between the dark sea-weeded wall
teeth’s breath sneers we did it all
up here the easy walk is pathed around
down there it’s a mountaineer’s task
can we ~ did we ~ no need to ask
blue pool rocks we’re on solid ground
oh my pristine sandy bay
you have always been this way
under unscalable cliffs
bombing gulls with screaming riffs
or out across to the point with the hole
where the stranded starfish are on parole
look there it is
yes burry holmes
the next stop on our epic roam
burry holms
laid for lunch or a timely snack
when the tide is low and sea is slack
look this side far worm’s head stands
north side the banks of the loughor sands
gone now the tidal gully’s rip
that at high tide lets the atlantic slip
into the moat around this island jointed
faulted between here and the headlands pointed
feel it! ~ can you feel it?
the romance of feet that were here before
irresistibly springing to the fore
say your prayer ~ ask permission
to continue this our walking mission
back cross the beach long and flat
to cross the sand dunes higher than high
back where our walking’s front door mat
sighs and sighs oh ditto that
