Wednesday, 4 November 2015
I went at dawn to Newcomb Hollow,
a war reporter for breaking light.
To see the last-gasp darkness swallowed
down the gullet of a mackerel sky.
I was spied by periscoping seals,
peep holing through the barbed edge ocean;
to command the waves to raid and steal
in constant pillaging incursions.
Resisting them: a Marram band
defended the cold and cratered dunes,
resolute and still in that half land,
waiting for a wind borne call to move.
Later I wrote of the Kingdom of Whales,
every stanza a water-board of light.
Lying down I dreamed of buried shells
and silent seals watching me at night.
First published at Clear Poetry 21st Jan 2016