This is longer than I normally post so if you stay with it I'd be interested
to have some comment. The location is Lynton on the North coast of Devon on
the Bristol Channel.

IN THE VALLEY OF THE ROCKS

Tha pproach is along a narrow path, steep
banks of bracken and pale rock on the left
hand side. On the right another steepness
descends, looks down on seagulls that glide,
white contrasts to the luminous blue
seen through misty air. This is the flat
shift of sea which makes you giddy and
for a moment reminds us of life's hard
constant fragilities.

                      Out beyond the sea
there could be an abyss for no horizon
can be seen thropugh the mist, just
blotched blues on pink fadinfg into
uniform grey, as if the edge of this
shelf we walk upon is indeed the edge of
the world and only infinitude stretches
out from the lapping of water on rocks
far below our feet.

                    And then a crack
of light in the cloud above the mist announces
we have been taken back to witness scenes
that depict the beginning of the world.
Trickles of words count its creation:
elemental, primeval, loom from the lexicon
to state its fascination with what is going
on before our eyes and bids the visual
grandeur continue.

                   Turning a long bend
on the narrow path our future is devised
in the colossus before us. Light from
new sun continues to break through old
murk making our known world once again
unknown. The trickle of words conjure "strange",
yet what we see is strange. The form far
above us touches low clouds to state it
cannot be deminished.

bw
James


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