there’s softness in this autumn shower
that closes about me,
as I walk in uneasy company
with swishing tyres.
White lights approaching
red rushing away,
all just passing glimmers
as I think back on summer days,
to ease my journey through
these dreary, fume choked passageways.
Pebbles roll in susurration
heralding aqua tints and deeper blues
splish-splashing into sandy coves
trickling around ragged rocks.
Foam flecked sea runs over sandy bars,
the ebb and flow of eternity
catching unwary feet
that tread the water’s edge.
Diamonds glint, in sun’s new light
climbing slowly above the Nare,
washing last shadows from the night.
Footsteps along glistening sand
to the sweeping curve of low cliffs,
green topped in gentle slopes
dashed with white houses, dotted with sheep
stretching out beneath the blue.
Across the rippling stream,
sandy channel snaking to the sea,
pass the derelict kiln to iron gates
and pink hotel, alas no more,
to breakfast by the window,
looking out along the shore.
Days spent ambling coastal paths
or criss-crossing between rivers,
walking over soft, open pasture
or being dwarfed by maize,
an endless blue to the horizon
peppered with drifting cumulus.
Watching tall ships from Charlestown,
tankers from Falmouth,
sailboats from St Mawes,
riding chain clanking King Harry,
to explore further shores.
Twisty lanes pass mill and castle,
revealing local wines and cider brews,
narrow ways through tiny harbours
to the bright hued boats of Mevagissey,
a clamour of tourist delights
and the obligatory fish and chips.
Then back to quieter moments
St Anthony’s, the church, the head,
St Just’s real peace and views,
before returning home to city life,
back to puddle-splashed shoes.