And guard it like a jewel in my heart. Missing A dismal, drizzling day, The cliff path almost a stream, The grass mole-silver with moisture. The cliffs, skewed to spectating shapes, Their heads blotted by washy mist, Observe me impersonally as I strip Under a dripping overhang. In perfect stillness. There is an awakening Smell of flatfish.
Time draws breath.
Whitely before they break. Something has happened. Click here to return to the general page about Please use the buttons to explore the website.